


Imagine Requests

by jnic84



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Losers (2010)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Multiple Pairings, Post-Doctor Strange (2016), Reader-Insert, Smut, Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 49,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6899836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jnic84/pseuds/jnic84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and one-shots based on reader requests and imagines. Pairings and characters will be added as the collection grows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Precious Things (Bucky x Reader)

Title: Precious Things

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Request: Bucky x reader one-shot where they have sex and the morning after its all extremely fluffy, cuddles, and compliments until he sees the bruises he left so he feels super, super bad where he's in tears cause he feels so bad but the reader assures him it's okay. 

Warning: Unprotected sex, general smuttiness, cursing, guilt.

 

It was well past two in the morning by the time your team finished debriefing and everyone got a clean bill of health from Dr. Cho. Clint was surely passed out already, since he was known to collapse onto his bed fully clothed when particularly tired. Natasha had too much left over adrenaline in her system and had headed for the gym once she was released. 

The rest of the Avengers sat out this mission, considering it was strictly spy games. There was little need to bring a band of brawlers when no one needed to throw a swing. The tower was quiet, and you smiled to yourself at the sense of peace you felt. 

You reached your room and turned the doorknob, hesitating before flicking on the lights when you noticed a body curled up on your bed. Biting your lip to stifle a grin, you closed the door quietly behind you and took soft steps towards the bed.

Ever since you and Bucky had become a couple (it seemed so juvenile to call him your boyfriend), the two of you rarely slept apart. When missions made separation a necessity, Bucky would take to sleeping in your bed. He said it was a way to be close to you when you were gone. 

Whatever the reason, it was damn adorable. 

You were tempted to curl up beside him, bury your head into his chest and just enjoy the feel of him, but Natasha wasn’t the only one with too much leftover adrenaline and nothing to do with it. 

Silently you placed your mission bag on the floor, kicked your shoes off, and unzipped the top of your uniform. Undoing your belt and a couple of buttons, you were able to slip the formfitting cloth down your body, tossing it haphazardly to the side. Unhooking your bra, you let it join the rest of your clothes, leaving you only in a pair of black panties.

The cool air in your bedroom felt wonderful against your heated skin.

Bucky stirred slightly as you gently climbed onto the mattress, making sure to keep your movements slow so as not to wake him. You took in the sight of him, bare-chested and broad, lying unassumingly under your sheets. He was too handsome for his own good.  
Tugging the loose sheets down, you let your hands glide across the width of his chest, and down the length of his torso, teasing the band of his boxers a little before giving them a light tug downwards, just enough.

He shifted a little, murmuring something unintelligible, and you paused until he relaxed completely again. When his breathing deepened slightly, you grinned. Leaning down, you placed soft kisses on his chest, nipping teasingly at his nipples and enjoying his sleepy grunt of approval.

Allowing your mouth to wander, your lips traveled south, leaving wet kisses along his abdomen and tracing the lines of his muscles with your tongue.

Edging down the bed, you moved to straddle him, making sure to keep your full weight off his legs. On all fours now, your hand moved to cup him, massaging his cock and watching it twitch in anticipation.

Knowing Bucky was undoubtedly on the verge of wakefulness by now, you decided to forego any further teasing, taking him into your eager mouth.

His hand, soft and warm, slid into your hair and he let out a long groan as your tongue swirled around his tip. You looked up at him with hooded eyes, pleased to see he was now wide awake. Bucky bit his lip, sucking on it before releasing it and letting his tongue flick his upper lip.

You knew you were smiling, even with your lips wrapped around his cock. You started a slow rhythm, enjoying the taste of him after your time apart. Your free hand cupped his balls gently, and his eyes rolled back at the sensation. 

He was hard and ready in no time, and you were more than happy to let him finish, but Bucky wasn’t having it. Tugging on your hair to get your attention, his gaze darkened as gave his head one last swirl of your tongue before sitting up. Even in the darkness he could see you perfectly, the swell of your breasts enticing him.

“God, I missed you,” he purred, pulling your mouth to his and devouring you with his kiss. Your body was now pressed against his, legs entangled, as he slid both hands down your sides and grabbing your ass, squeezing wantonly.

You moaned into his mouth and he took the opportunity to nibble on your bottom lip, before burying his head in your neck and biting that spot in the crook of your neck that made you go wild.

Straddling his waist, you were in desperate need of friction. Bucky enjoyed the feeling your pussy grinding against his torso, but he needed more.

He moved swiftly and before you could blink you were on your hands and knees beneath him. You could feel the flesh of his hand as it slipped into your panties.

“Fuck,” he muttered, as his fingers glided past your folds and circled your clit, relieved to see you were wet already. 

You groaned in disappointment when his hand left you, exhaling sharply when he simply tore your panties off. You weren’t sure where they landed and you didn’t particularly care, because all too soon you could feel the head of his cock pressed against your opening and all that mattered was Bucky.

He didn’t waste time teasing, driven by need he slammed into your pussy. You were grateful that you had this floor to yourself, because your lustful shout would have woke anyone unlucky enough to be nearby.

Bucky’s right hand grasped the back your neck, pressing your face into the mattress as his hips snapped forward at an unrelenting pace. You slid your legs open wider, allowing him to go deeper, as his metal hand gripped your hip mercilessly. It was rare that he allowed himself to use him arm freely, and though you could feel a bite of pain from his hold, it was nothing compared to the pleasure coursing through the rest of your body.

“Please—harder,” you begged, delighting in the feel of him pounding you into the mattress. Bucky grunted in answer, the bed shaking from his thrusts. You could feel the pleasure building and you chased it eagerly, pushing back onto his cock and slipping a hand under you to play with your clit.

You felt your walls start to convulse and let out a long, satisfied moan as your peak hit. Bucky was close behind you, panting harshly as your pussy clenched around him and he finally let himself go, coming hard as he pulled you up by the neck and you twisted your head so you could meet his lips in a sloppy but satiated kiss.

“Mmm, I should go away more often if that’s the welcome I get,” you hummed as he slipped out of you and guided you both down onto the bed.

“Or you could stay and we could do that everyday,” he suggested, and despite his playful tone, you knew a part of him wished it could truly be like that.

“If you can get Steve to sign off on that plan, count me in,” you giggled, tucking yourself into him and resting your head on his shoulder. His arm held you securely to his side and you reveled in the feeling.

“Give me a couple days, I’ll figure something out,” he murmured, giving you a sleepy smile as he held you close and allowed himself to finally relax. He was always tense when you were gone, but now that you were back he could begin to rest easy.

He was asleep before he knew it, and it felt like only moments had passed by the time the morning light crept into your bedroom and woke him hours later. Stretching as best he could, considering you were still wrapped around him, Bucky allowed himself to wake slowly and enjoy the quiet.

Looking down at you, so tiny compared to him, he smiled softly. His expression faltered when he noticed a hint of discoloration on your neck. Brushing your hair back, his heart sped up dangerously as he saw the circle of bruises dotting your throat.

He gently dislodged you from his side, sweeping a wary gaze over the rest of your form. When he saw your hip, and the nearly black marks left by his fingers the night before, he began to panic.

Bucky’s breathing became irregular, short gasps. His head fell into his hands, and he tugged at his hair relentlessly, needing to feel something besides fear, even if that was pain.

His unconscious rocking back and forth stirred you from your sleep, and you frowned in deep concern when you saw the state of him. 

“Hey,” you whispered as you pulled yourself up into a seated position, covering a tiny wince at the flash of pain in your hip. “Buck, what happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

“I hurt you,” he mumbled, head still buried in his hand and muffling his voice.

“What?” you asked in confusion, brow furrowed. “Bucky, I’m fine.”

He finally looked up at you and you felt a tug in your heart when you noticed the shine of tears in his eyes. “You’re not fine,” he said shamefully, “You’re hurt,” his gaze fell to your hip and you understood when you saw how bad the bruising was. “And I did it.”

“Look at me,” you ordered gently, tucking a finger under his chin and forcing him to meet your eyes, “I’m okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“The things I’ve done with these hands,” he murmured. “I don’t want to do that to you.”

“You haven’t and you won’t,” you assured him, prying his hands from his tousled hair and holding them tenderly. “You listen to me, James Buchanan Barnes, it takes a lot more than a little rough sex to send me to the hospital.” The hint of blush on his face made you chuckle, and he finally gave you a shy grin.

“So we’re okay?” you double-checked.

“We’re okay,” he agreed with a nod. You smiled in relief and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Well I’m starving, so I say we get some breakfast and then get to work,” you declared, giving his hands one last reassuring squeeze before hopping out of bed and finding one of his shirts to throw on.

“Work?” Bucky said, feeling perplexed, “You have the day off.”

“But you don’t,” you smirked as you threw his boxers at him, unsurprised when caught them without even looking. “You’ve still got to figure out a way to convince Steve that I can best serve this great country by screwing your brains out on the daily.”

“Right,” Bucky grinned smugly, “how could I forget that?” He shimmied into his boxers and stood, slipping his arms around your waist. “It’s the best idea I’ve ever had.”


	2. Talk Me Out of It (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky x Reader
> 
> Request: How about a Bucky request? In the middle of Civil War when Bucky's arm is in the vice, how about the reader who is on Caps side is tending to Bucky's wounds, he says he remembers her. Maybe something cute and happy? Bucky needs some happiness.
> 
> Warning: Spoilers for Civil War. I tried for happy, but there’s a tiny bit angst at the end.

You bent at the knees, eyeing the infamous Bucky Barnes carefully. He was still in something of a daze after being triggered into a fight. There were bruises and lacerations on his face and arms, and probably more that you couldn’t see. You frowned sympathetically, standing and grabbing the bag you had stashed away for emergencies. 

Sam watched you carefully, not thrilled with the concern you were showing to your temporary prisoner. With Bucky’s metal arm trapped in a vice, he certainly wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Steve had worked too hard to let his best friend slip away again.

You supposed it was that unerring loyalty and love that Steve had for Bucky that intrigued you. You had never felt that for anyone before. You had grown to care for your teammates over the past few years, but that kind of trust and love eluded you. You were kind of jealous, to be honest. You had always wondered what it would be like to be in their position, to know there was someone out there who would never fail you.

One glance at Sam and you knew he didn’t share your captivation. But he trusted Steve, and if this is what Steve wanted, then this is what he would do.

“You should check on Cap,” you nodded toward Steve, who was staring blindly out the window of the warehouse you were currently hiding in. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” you gestured towards Barnes. 

With a nod, Sam left you alone with the object of your fascination.

Returning his side, you knelt down once more and with a gentle hand began cleaning his face of blood and dirt. The first aid kit from your bag lay open at your feet, but Bucky healed quickly and you knew you wouldn’t really need much more than cotton balls and disinfectant. 

You noticed the twitch in his cheek seconds before his eyes finally opened. Blearily, Bucky met your gaze, confusion across his face.

“I remember you,” he mumbled, squinting at you curiously.

“I would hope so,” you smirked, “considering you slammed me into a wall about an hour ago.”

“No, not…I—I’m sorry,” he flinched, but you didn’t stop your careful ministrations and he began to relax slightly under your touch. “I didn’t—what did he make me do?”

“It’s a long story,” you said blithely, “but the team made it out safe and you’re you now, so everything’s not so bad.”

He looked disappointed, with himself most likely. “I didn’t mean, before…I remember you. From the bridge,” he clarified after a long stretch of silence.

“Oh. That,” you recalled, mentally wincing. You remembered him too. The scar on your belly was a constant reminder of the bullet he put in you that day. Natasha had a similar mark from the encounter on her shoulder. Sam and Steve made it out with nary a wound. You were still a little peeved about that.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” you assured him with a bemused grin. “You aren’t the only guy I’ve met who likes to shoot first and introduce yourself later.”

Bucky didn’t appear too impressed by that. “I’m sorry.”

You waved away his apology nonchalantly. “I’ve done things I regret, bad things, without the benefit of brainwashing. You’re all good in my book, Sergeant.” 

A muffled chuckle escaped his lips and you gazed at him curiously. “No one has called me that in a long time,” he revealed.

“Hey, at least you earned your rank,” you laughed, “Steve just slapped on some tights and called himself a Captain.”

“The punk earned it eventually,” he conceded, a wistful smile across his face. 

“Yeah, he did,” you admitted. “But something tells me he’d give it all up if it meant saving you.”

“I don’t want him giving up anything to save me,” he muttered sadly. 

“No offense, but I don’t think you get a choice in the matter,” you observed, looking to the open doorway that lead to the room Steve was in. “That guy in there? That’s not Captain America. He isn’t fighting for justice and the American flag. That guy is Steve Rogers, and he’s fighting for his best friend. Face it, Barnes. He’s not leaving you behind. And I don’t think you really want him to.”

“He’d be better off without me around,” he said morosely.

“He’d be lost without you,” you argued, sitting back on your haunches and meeting his eyes with sincerity. “I don’t know him like you do, but I’ve seen him when anyone mentions your name. When he looks at a picture of you. He needs you as much as you need him. So no more running, Sergeant. Besides, we’re getting tired of chasing you. It usually ends with us getting arrested, and then there’s so much paperwork!”

Bucky cracked a smile and you felt some of the tension in your body ebb away.

“I’m going to get Steve,” you said softly. “Don’t go anywhere.” He eyed the vice around his arm and scoffed.

“Hey,” he called to you as you neared the door. You turned around curiously. “Thank you.” Your brow rose as if to ask what precisely he was thanking you for. “Um, for the talk. And taking care of me,” he added.

“No problem,” you grinned. “Besides, that face is too handsome to be covered with blood.”

Bucky looked away bashfully and you laughed to yourself. 

You left, retrieving Steve and Sam, and your earlier amusement was forced aside with the revelation that there were a number of HYDRA soldiers just like Bucky waiting to be unleashed. Getting acquainted, or reacquainted in Steve’s case, would have to wait.

In the end, the soldiers were dead and you and the rest of your team were left to rot in the Raft. No one had been more relieved than Sam when Steve finally appeared to rescue you all from imprisonment.

And no one was more disappointed than you to find that Bucky Barnes, a man who truly transfixed you, had chosen to lock himself away once more.

So much for your little pep talk.


	3. Dance with Danger (Bucky x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Dance with Danger
> 
> Pairing: Bucky x Reader
> 
> Rating: Mature
> 
> Request: Can you do a 1940s Bucky x reader where Bucky first saw her performing at a ballet and he just fell for her right there, and turns out she's a Russian spy?
> 
> Summary: Bucky is fascinated by a mysterious ballerina who is more than she seems.

“This isn't how I expected to spend my last night home,” Bucky groaned, and Steve hid a smirk.

The Stark Expo had been thrilling and Steve fully intended to sneak back later that evening to try his hand at yet another recruitment tent. Bucky had found the expo exciting as well, but the dates he had brought had lost their enthusiasm shortly after Howard Stark left the stage. 

So they had begged to go see a show. Bucky had been willing to oblige, expecting to be dragged to the cinema. He didn't realize they had been talking about watching a touring ballet company. He tried to beg off, he even attempted his best embarrassed look as he told them he didn't have the money for tickets. But his date wouldn't hear it, and lucky enough her father was friends with the theatre director.

Bucky’s last-ditch attempt to get out of it made him look pleadingly in Steve’s direction. Steve was too amused though, and a little bit of culture wouldn't kill him, so Steve remained content to stay silent and enjoy his friend’s disappointment.

Twenty minutes later found the foursome seated in the theatre, the girls tittering in anticipation. Bucky glanced at the program in his hands and grimaced. The Imperial Russian Ballet Company, that sounded…dull.

When the lights went down at the curtains up, Bucky settled into his seat with a heavy sigh, resting his head on his hand. He didn't pay much attention when the first ballerina stepped on stage. He considered trying to covertly doze off. But his head snapped up, eyes locked onto the stage when he saw you.

You moved with such grace across the stage. Your pirouettes were flawless and your grande jeté appeared effortless. He couldn't take his eyes off you. 

Steve glanced at Bucky and stifled a grin. It looked like Bucky wasn't nearly as bored as he thought he'd be. Their dates looked less amused, both girls glowering at Bucky’s enraptured appearance. They tried to pay attention to the dancing, but every once in awhile their gazes would drift back to Bucky and they'd frown.

Steve did his best to enjoy the show, but even he had to admit it wasn't his cup of tea. His mind kept wandering back to the recruitment tent, and how badly he wanted to be there.

Both he and Bucky fidgeted during the intermission, but for very different reasons. Steve was waiting for the show to end so he could politely beg off company and slip away to the expo. Bucky was anxious to see you one more time. 

When the curtain rose again, Bucky’s eyes were glued to the stage and your lithe form.

You could feel a piercing gaze on you the entire time you performed. While most of the audience’s gaze drifted among all the dancers, you could feel one pair of eyes that never left you.

You met the man’s intense stare momentarily and immediately dismissed him as a threat. He was just another soldier boy, strutting around in his uniform trying to impress the ladies. He was handsome, but you didn't let that distract you. 

You were in Brooklyn for a reason and it wasn’t for pleasure.

Howard Stark’s grand expo had drawn an interesting crowd, and most intriguing was the presence of one Doctor Erskine. It was your mission to discover just how far Erskine’s little experiment had progressed, and what role Howard Stark played in it. 

The performance ended without incident and you found your eyes wandering to the man one last time, teasing him with a coquettish smile as you slipped backstage. His face became flushed and he directed a goofy grin your way until the girl beside him elbowed him in the stomach. You muffled a laugh. There was no harm in having a little fun.

You changed clothes quickly, shimmying in to a black pencil dress. Normally you wouldn’t care for the restricting cut of cloth, but since tonight was simply surveillance you weren’t concerned.

It didn’t take you long to make your way out the stage door in the back of the theatre. There were a few people there hoping to mingle with the dancers but you moved past them with a patient expression that told the crowd that you were pleased to see them but far too busy to chat.

Heading to the front of the theatre, you walked to the edge of the curb and flagged down a taxi. As you took a seat inside, you noticed your admirer on the sidewalk talking with a frail man. He was shaking his head in bemusement as the smaller man gave him a reassuring pat on the back before heading out on his own.

The man wasn’t left alone for long, as the two women he had been seated with returned, each threading an arm through his. Looks like he wouldn’t be lonely tonight, you thought ruefully. 

You ended every night alone. There were times you wondered what true companionship would be like. But then you remembered your teachings and training. There was no use in imagining; your life had been decided for you long ago.

It didn’t take long to reach the Stark Expo. You paid your driver, including a generous tip, and disappeared into the crowd.

Finding the recruitment tent was easy. With the war in full swing, Uncle Sam was in need of soldiers. You found yourself wandering about the displays, studying the uniformed mannequins and amusing yourself in the mirrors.

Covertly, you took stock of the men lined up for examination. They were the usual bunch, athletes and fresh high school graduates, looking to do their duty. Or at least for a neat uniform to wear to impress the girls before they shipped off and got one hell of a rude awakening.

In the bustle of people, you spotted the frail man. You barely noticed him, despite your keen observational skills. At 5’4” he was nearly invisible among the others. But he stood in line with his head held high, a sense determination in his demeanor that you almost admired. His determination was going to get him killed if he ever saw battle.

You spent some time watching the men come in and out of the tent. Nothing and no one of interest caught your eye.

Forty minutes later, you noticed the small one stepping outside looking positively overjoyed. Brow rose curiously, you moved through the crowds to make your way closer to him. A moment later, out stepped Erskine to speak with the boy. He handed him a piece of paper, relayed a few more instructions that you couldn’t quite make out, and then departed.

It appeared the boy was more interesting than you had thought if he had garnered the attention of the esteemed doctor.

Deciding that he was now your mission, you followed the boy at a distance. He was moving at a fast pace, but his legs were short and his lungs weak so it didn’t take much effort to keep up with him.

He left the expo, but didn’t go far. There was a dancehall a block away and he awkwardly shuffled inside, looking around for a familiar face. You spotted his friend the same time he did, and the boy practically ran to his side.

Eager to share his news, the boy’s mouth moved a mile a minute, ignoring the frown on his friend’s face. Whatever he was saying, his friend didn’t seem to think it was good news. They argued shortly, but conscious of the people surrounding them, the spat fizzled quickly. The man looked tiredly resigned, the boy was still excited but his enthusiasm was slightly dampened.

You slunk through the sea of dancing couples, watching as the boy made his way to the bar. Intending to join him, maybe try to chat him up, you followed his path.

The gentle hand on your arm was unexpected and you pivoted with a genuine look of surprise. That familiar man in uniform was now beside you, holding you in an uncomfortably soft grip.

“Sorry for just grabbing you,” he started sheepishly, and his hand left your arm. You felt a little bereft at the loss of his touch. “But I saw your performance tonight, and I just had to say that you were amazing.”

“You are too kind,” you offered with a practiced grin, eyes darting about in hopes of spotting the boy. 

“I know you dance for a living, but I’d be honored if you’d take a turn with me,” he gave you his best charming smile. With the little man lost in the crowd, you supposed there was no harm in indulging him.

“Just one,” you acquiesced, taking his proffered hand and letting him lead you to the middle of the floor. “You never told me your name.”

He chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed. Normally he was all roguish charm with the ladies, but this one had him flustered. “It’s James, but my friends call me Bucky.” 

You raised a brow at his revelation, “Bucky is certainly a…memorable name.” 

“You figured me out. I hope I’m unforgettable,” he grinned. “Do I get to know your name?”

Your reply was a teasing “No,” as he spun you on the floor. “I’m surprised to see you alone. I had noticed your lady friends at the theatre.”

“You were watching me?” he grinned smugly. 

“You were practically drooling,” you laughed, “it was quite the sight.” His face flushed red once more.

“We parted ways after the show,” he shrugged. “They took offense at all the drooling,” Bucky remarked drolly. 

“And your friend?” you prodded lightly, “Did he abandon you too?”

“Stevie? Nah, he’s around here somewhere. Off celebrating,” he muttered, disappointment evident in his tone.

“And why aren’t you celebrating with him?” you inquired. “Isn’t that what friends do?”

“Kid thinks enlisting is the answer to all his problems, that it’s his duty” Bucky sighed, unconsciously holding you closer to him. “I’m afraid it’s going to get him killed.”

“Surely no recruiter would accept him, given his stature,” you pressed. 

“One just did,” he grimaced. “Some doctor’s got it in his head that Steve’s got potential or something. He’s a great kid, no doubt. No one’s got a better sense of justice and duty than him. But that’s not going to save him in a fight. And since I ship out tomorrow, I won’t be there to protect him.”

You hummed in agreement, not pursuing the topic any longer. You had got the answers you needed.

Erskine had to be close to successfully testing the formula, and the dear Steve appeared to be his test subject. There was little else you needed answers to tonight. Tomorrow you could go about finding this Steve, maybe peruse his personal belongings while he was away for the day. Once you found solid evidence you could report back to your handlers.

Sadly that couldn’t be tonight. Steve was too keyed up, and he didn’t look like he had much experience socializing with ladies. Sidling up to him at the bar wouldn’t work, he’d either be distrustful or stammer too much to get any information out of him. You would have to wait and resort to sneakier methods when he let his guard down in the next day or two.

The song came to an end and your full attention returned to Bucky as he stopped swaying, but still held you firmly in his arms.

You could see he wanted to say something to get you to stay a little longer, but couldn’t decide on what. He worried about being too forward.

You had no such worries. After a moment, you decided for him. You knew it was a breach of protocol and highly looked down on, but you found yourself not caring. You spent every night alone, and you desired a distraction from your solitary existence. One night could surely do no harm. And if your handlers felt fit to punish you for it, so be it.

“You’re shipping out tomorrow, soldier?” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes, biting your lip teasingly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, surprisingly nervous at your provocative gaze. 

“I’d hate to think you were spending your last night alone,” you sighed, playing with the lapel of his coat. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” he said huskily. 

“Then why don’t you say goodnight to your friend, and we can go home for a nightcap?” you suggested, smiling as his eyes glazed over with lust.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, gripping your hips tightly before pushing his way through the crowd to find Steve.

All of your well-taught bravado escaped you then and you felt a little vulnerable. Alone, surrounded by couples laughing and flirting, none of them aware of the fraud you were. But seconds later his hands were on the small of your back and you felt your nerves calm.

Bucky smiled down at you, hardly believing his luck as you slipped an arm around his back and allowed him to escort you out of the dancehall. 

It was a short walk to his apartment and soon enough you found yourself standing behind him as he unlocked his front door. You both stepped inside and the second the door closed behind you, you couldn’t resist any more.

Gripping the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the strands of his hair, you pulled his mouth to yours. The kiss wasn’t delicate or soft, but hard and punishing. He didn’t hesitate to return your ardor, pulling you to him until your body pressed shamelessly against his. 

You felt the pleasurable, teasing throb of your core as his hands slipped lower, sliding the hem of your skirt up until your legs were completely free. He gripped your ass greedily, lifting you as you wrapped your legs around his hips.

He walked you both towards the bedroom, placing your gently on the bed. You weren’t sure you wanted gentle. It was far too intimate for your liking. Before you could stop him, he unwound your legs from him and stepped away.

Frowning, you watched as he moved across the room, flicking on a table lamp.

“I want to see you,” Bucky explained, and you felt a rush of heat at the blatant desire in his eyes.

You slid to the end of the bed, holding him there with your gaze as you stood, reaching back to slowly unzip your dress. When it finally fell, it pooled on the floor around your ankles, leaving you in only your corselet, garters, and stockings.

Since Bucky remained still and speechless, you sauntered toward him, watching his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed. You slid your hands across his shoulders before moving the buttons of his uniform. He let you undress him, enjoying the feel of your caresses as he eyed you hungrily.

It wasn’t long until he was left in nothing but his boxers and you pulled him into yet another greedy kiss. 

There was no keeping him still now as he led you back to the bed, his nimble fingers working their magic on your undergarments. By the time your back hit the mattress you were only wearing stockings. You reached down to slip them off, but Bucky’s hand stayed you.

“Leave them on,” he ordered, and you licked your lips in anticipation.

Bucky’s lips moved to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot as you crooned. Your hands wandered eagerly, moving up and down his muscled back and slipping suggestively past the waistband of his boxers.

His hands weren’t idle either, taking in every inch of you. While his hips had you pressed firmly into the bed, his hands explored your hips and torso before settling deliciously on your breasts. He gripped them firmly, tugging at your nipples and enjoying the mewling sound you made.

His mouth began to travel down your body, teasing your breasts before skimming down your stomach. Your breath came in harsh pants as he moved lower, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as his fingers parted your lower lips and his tongue circled your clit.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you collapsed fully into the mattress, giving yourself over to the feelings he elicited in you. Your moans were loud and very likely disturbing the neighbors, but you didn’t care. Your hand tangled in his hair as you rode his face.

Feeling his fingers enter you pushed you over the edge, and your orgasm overwhelmed you as he found your g-spot. Pulling back, Bucky watched you come in fascination, taking in the way your legs shook, your mouth gasping for air as your head flung back, and feeling your tight grip around his fingers.

He needed to feel you completely.

You lay in a daze, coming down from your high as he soothes you with soft hands. When you finally had control of your body once more, you rolled him over, pushing him down onto the mattress. 

Taking him in your hands, you positioned him and slid down slowly onto his cock. His guttural groan made you clench and he bucked into you. Biting your lip, you began to rock, taking it slow and driving him mad. His hands grasped your hips like a lifeline. 

Your leisurely pace was killing him, and soon enough Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. With one swift movement you were underneath him again and his hips were grinding into yours.

You were able to give yourself over completely to the feeling of him. The animalistic sounds coming from his mouth, his hips pounding into yours, the frantic pace felt instinctual, leaving little time for you to worry about intimacy.

He pressed into you harder, spreading your legs even more allowing him to move deeper inside you. Your hips snapped at a desperate pace, chasing that feeling that was building inside of you. 

“God—I,” Bucky stammered, barely able to form words as his rhythm began to falter and you knew he was close to coming. Weaving a hand between your bodies, your fingers found your clit, giving you just what you needed to join him.

With a shuddering moan, you came hard, taking him with you. You felt your walls pulsing around him as he stiffened and let out a satisfied groan.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, entangled in each other, his now softened cock still inside you. When Bucky finally had use of his limbs, he flopped onto the mattress, laying on his back and pulling you to his side.

Instinct told you to run. It was over, you had your fun. He was no more use to you tonight. And this position you found yourself in, naked with your head pillowed on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, felt far too tender. But something held you back.

Bucky began to grow tired, placing a sleepy kiss on your forehead and mumbling something sweet before starting to doze.

You didn’t feel tired, the opposite really. So you lie awake, watching as he drifted off peacefully. Hours passed and you didn’t leave his embrace, feeling a strange sense of contentment. You would never be able to sustain a connection like this in the real world, but tonight had been a pleasurable delusion. 

As it grew close to morning, you slipped out of bed in resignation, quietly dressing. You took one last look at Bucky, still asleep with a careless look on his face. Today he would leave for the war, and who knew if he would came back.

“Будьте безопасны , солдат,” Be safe, soldier, you whispered. 

You were gone before the sun rose. Little did you know, you would see him once more when your mission would lead you to Italy, on the trail of Captain America.


	4. Home Is Not a Place (Bucky x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to Talk Me Out of It. 
> 
> Request: Follow-up to Talk Me Out of It. It’s been years since Civil War and the disbanding of the Avengers, but a looming threat brings the team back together.
> 
> Warning: Spoilers for Civil War. Speculation for Infinity Wars.

It had been four years since the signing of the Sokovian Accords and the implosion of the Avengers. 

While Tony and his team had remained comfortably in the States, doing as they were told, those of you who followed Steve were at bit a of a loss initially. 

Hiding out in Wakanda, life was vastly different. While T’Challa made every effort to keep you comfortable, the team was going a bit stir crazy. Clint missed his family, Steve was tense and unhappy with Bucky so close but ultimately so far away, Sam and Scott were bored to tears. Wanda was the only one who didn’t seem to mind it so much. Here she was free to explore her powers, and in time she was learning not to fear them. But there were times, when she would sit by herself and stare off into the distance, that you knew she was thinking about Pietro and Vision, unable to escape the feeling of loneliness.

You understood that well. 

You had never been one for making connections. In your line of work, it just didn’t pay off. People died or turned on you, relying on them would come at too high a cost. You had changed once you joined the Avengers. You started to let people in. You and Nat would commiserate about your questionable pasts. Tony would let you test his newest inventions. You would join Steve on his quest to catch up to the present, the Star Wars marathon had been a particularly fun day.

But now Tony and Nat were across the world and unable or unwilling to reach out. And Steve, poor Steve, was in a strange state of mourning for a friend not dead, but still lost to him.

You didn’t begrudge Bucky his decision. It was the first time in nearly 70 years the man had control over his own destiny. You could hardly hate him for the choice he made. But you felt a little cheated.

However irrational, you had felt a connection with Bucky. You hadn’t gotten to know him that well, but in the time you spent together, if felt like talking to an old friend. 

Six months into your exile, things were getting a little better for the others. Wanda was growing ever confident. Clint had been reunited with his family, a move that had taken a lot of clever maneuvering on T’Challa’s part. The King had also upgraded Sam’s wings and the airman was enjoying his new gear immensely. Scott had been able to connect with Cassie off and on, through T’Challa’s secure servers, and continued to work on his suit. He could now sustain ‘Giant Man’, as he called him, for ten minutes at time. Steve was busy working closely with Wakanda’s leading scientists, hoping for a breakthrough to help Bucky. 

And you were just plain restless.

When you approached Steve about leaving, he was completely against the idea. It wasn’t safe. You were technically a wanted, escaped criminal. Wakanda was a paradise, it would be a great place to settle down. But you didn’t want to settle. 

With the first year coming to an end, you packed your bags and said your goodbyes. T’Challa said you were always welcome. Clint told you not to do anything he wouldn’t do. Sam told you to kick some ass. Wanda offered her assistance if you ever needed it. Scott gave you tips on laying low, but considering how often he’d been dragged off to jail you took them with a grain of salt.

Steve was the hardest goodbye. He was sad to see you leave. You knew he felt like he was losing yet another person in his life. But he slipped a disposable phone in your pack and told you to call for any reason. 

Bucky remained in cryo.

By the time four years had passed, the world was a vastly different place.

A band of alien misfits led by a man who insisted on calling himself Star Lord arrived to announce that Earth was under threat from a being named Thanos. 

To Tony, this was his worst nightmare come to life. The panic that arose led to the dissolution of the Accords, as nations scrambled to bring together their heroes to fight the peril. Captain America and his team of outcasts had been welcomed back with open arms. 

You weren’t with them. 

Your heart told you that you should be there, to rejoin your once fractured team and fight the good fight. But age old instinct kept you out of the fray. You had spent most of your life with only yourself to rely on. For a few years that had changed, but the Accords had taught you once more that nothing was permanent. 

You had ditched the disposable phone the previous year. Steve had never called, and neither had you. If trouble came your way, you’d fight it. But you were done with teamwork.

It wasn’t trouble that found you, but a familiar blonde Viking of a man, donning a red cape and wielding a hammer.

“My lady,” Thor greeted you with obvious relief. “Heimdall was most helpful in finding you!”

“Big guy,” you said in astonishment, returning his enthusiastic embrace. “Why were you looking for me?” 

“There is danger!” he announced, arms spread wide in emphasis. “We are needed if there is hope to defeat Thanos.”

“I don’t have superpowers,” you reminded him wearily, “and I haven’t played well with others in a long time. I was thinking about sitting this one out.”

“Nonsense!” he decried. “Your Captain has been searching for you. He feared you lost to us. When I told him that Heimdall would know your location, he asked to bring you home at once.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Thor didn’t wait to hear your rebuttal. Wrapping a tight arm around your waist, he raised Mjolnir, spinning it furiously before allowing it to fly, taking the two of you with it.

You landed minutes later and you vaguely realized you were in New York. This hadn’t been your first Mjolnir assisted flight, but it had been the longest, and you had not completely regained your balance. 

“Never. Do that. Again,” you grimaced, holding your stomach and glaring up at the demigod balefully. He merely grinned. 

“Welcome home,” he announced, and you realized he had taken you to the roof of the Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower. You hadn’t been there since Ultron made a mess of the place and Tony had decided to retire.

You were at a loss for words as you and Thor headed to the elevator and descended the tower. It felt strange being here again. You had once called this place home, but now it felt foreign.

When the doors opened, you had arrived at the common floor. The kitchen was relatively clean, with a few dishes sitting in the sink. There was a coffee mug sitting out to dry, the words “I never miss” scrawled across it. Clint was here. 

Following Thor, you spotted Nat’s laptop closed and sitting on the dining table. You wondered what it was like when the whole team met up for the first time again. Must have been like the world’s most awkward family reunion. How do you apologize for lying about the death of one’s parents or getting your friends thrown in an ocean prison? They don’t make greeting cards for those kind of things.

They were all in the lounge, splayed along couches and chairs, and from the little you picked up of their conversation they were reminiscing about old times. 

“My friends,” Thor bellowed, and everyone’s attention turned to him, and ultimately to you. “I have indeed found our missing companion.”

The group stood all at once, but Steve was the first to make a move. Crossing the floor in a handful of long strides, he pulled you into a tight hug.

“I’ve tried to call you,” he said quietly. “I thought you were—,”

“Not dead,” you smiled crookedly, “just on the lam. And I sort of…lost…your phone.”

“You go MIA again, kid, and I’m dragging you back myself,” he warned, a thankful smile across his handsome face. 

The rest of the team said their hellos as well, Clint tried to play it cool but you could see it in his eyes that he had been worried about you. You felt a pang of regret at your selfishness. Wordlessly, Nat pulled you into a long hug. It had been far too long since you had seen her. The reunion with Tony was stilted. You were still harboring a grudge after being imprisoned and Tony knew that you weren’t the only one with some unresolved grievances against him. Vision lingered in the back of the room, giving you an elegant sweep of his head in welcoming. Scott and Wanda both dragged you into a group hug and you couldn’t stifle your laughter at their exuberance. Sam was next, giving you a casual side hug. Bruce stood off to the side, consciously distancing himself from Natasha, but waved and smiled.

“I know there’s a lot of catching up to do,” you interrupted the pseudo love-fest, “but I’m still on the verge of hurling thanks to Thunder Thighs, here. Do you mind if I lay down for a bit?” 

“Of course,” Steve jumped to, leading you back toward the elevators. “We’re still getting your room ready. Tony says there are a few more last minute deliveries before it’s livable, so you can use my room.”

After giving you directions to his floor, Steve let you slip inside the elevator and with a final grin, returned to the newly reformed team.

Glad for a bit of quiet, you let out a long breath and when the doors opened, you made your way leisurely to Steve’s apartments. 

You hadn’t been lying. Thor’s unusual method of air travel did have you feeling a bit queasy, but you mostly weren’t feeling ready to deal with the team yet. You hadn’t really planned on seeing them again, and you were feeling overwhelmed.

Friday let you in Steve’s room without any trouble and you wandered toward the spare bedroom. You thought about being polite and crashing on his couch, but you weren’t feeling particularly polite at the moment. Besides, you didn’t think he’d really care.

It surprised you to find the comforter rumpled and pillows a bit askew, you knew Steve Rogers to be all about precision and detail. But the man deserved to be cut some slack every now and then, so you just shrugged it off.

Flopping onto the mattress, you closed your eyes and tried to let your mind drift away.

That lasted about thirty seconds before the adjoining bathroom door opened and a towel clad Bucky Barnes walked into the room.

His artful response to your presence was a startled “Uh…” that had your eyes shooting open and your body clamoring off the bed.

“Jesus H. Christ!” you shouted, covering your racing heart with one hand. “Warn a girl before you walk into her room naked!”

“This is my room,” he replied with a hint of amusement. 

“Right,” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. “Of course it is. It would have been nice if Steve had told me that.” You took a chance to look him over, in a totally not sexual way (you swear). “I didn’t know you were—thawed out,” you greeted him clumsily. “Nice arm,” you added, taking in his shiny new appendage.

“T’Challa had it made when they woke me a few months ago,” he nodded. 

“The man does good work,” you agreed, trying not to look as uncomfortable as you felt. 

“I asked about you,” Bucky admitted after a brief silence. “Steve didn’t know what happened to you. We—he was worried.”

“I was doing the lone wolf thing until Tall, Blonde, and Godly showed up and brought me back,” you explained.

“I’m glad—I’m sure Steve’s glad you’re back,” he muttered. He seemed to realize that he was standing essentially naked in front of you, his hand clutching his towel desperately, and he blanched. “Um, would you mind if I got dressed?”

“Your choice,” you smirked, heading for the door to give him some privacy. “It’s certainly not a requirement.”

You could hear his low chuckle as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Bucky Barnes.

You weren’t sure how you felt about seeing him again. You hadn’t expected it. It seemed like he hadn’t forgot about you, even asked about you. That was something of a good sign. 

A moment later he stepped out into the living room, wearing a pair of jeans and a Henley shirt. You smiled wistfully. That always had been a good look on him. He joined you on the couch, and you bent a knee and turned to face him.

“So I take it Steve told you about Thanos and his evil plan of evil?” you wondered.

“Yeah,” he frowned. “We met with the Guardians of the Galaxy,” he made a face at the name. “That was…something. I met a tree. That could talk. And it was friends with a raccoon. That could also talk.”

“You’ve had a busy few days,” you snorted. “Bet you never thought you’d have to deal with aliens.”

“You’re right about that,” he smirked. 

“How did things go with the whole—deprogramming?” you asked, genuinely curious. Under normal circumstances, you would have assumed it went well considering he was still up and around. But with such a vast threat facing them, perhaps Steve thought it was necessary to take a chance and awaken Bucky before it was time.

“Painful,” he grimaced. “But it worked. No more trigger words,” he sighed. “The nightmares are still there, though.”

“That’s not a surprise,” you commiserated. “But they get better.”

“You?” he wondered, a little surprised.

“It’s a side effect of the job,” you revealed, tilting your head. “We all get them. Tony’s are bad. Steve doesn’t like to talk about his. Nat won’t admit that she even has them. But it’s something we all have in common. If it weren’t for the cool metal arm, you’d be positively boring around here.”

“That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all week,” he laughed. “I’ll take boring.” There was a comfortable silence that settled between you and you took a long moment to enjoy it. 

Glancing at your watch, you hummed and reluctantly lifted yourself from the couch. “I suppose I’ve bailed on the family bonding long enough.” 

“I should join you,” Bucky agreed, standing at your side. “Steve said I wasn’t allowed to hide out in here forever.”

“Are you hiding?” you faced him curiously. 

“A little,” he confessed. “I don’t know how to act around them. Especially Tony. When I woke up, it was easier to stick with Steve, you know? Everyone else felt like strangers or enemies. And…”

“What?” you pressed.

“You weren’t there,” Bucky replied, looking away. “Other than Steve, you’re the only one I can talk to.”

“I’m sorry, that I wasn’t there,” you murmured, looking down feeling a little ashamed. “But I promise I’m not going anywhere now. We’re in this together,” you smiled tentatively, relieved when he returned it with a soft grin of his own.

“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” he warned playfully. 

“Pinky swear,” you offered, sticking your finger out. With a chuckle, he entwined his pinky with yours and you shook on it. Instead of letting his hand fall away, you let it slip into your own, watching him carefully. When he didn’t pull away, and instead tightened his grip on your hand, you smiled and pulled him forward.

“Come on,” you said gently. “We can’t keep Steve waiting. He’s already threatened to send a search party after me.”

Bucky allowed you to lead him away, hand in hand. With him steadily at your side, you began to feel some of your anxiety subside. 

Maybe you were truly home again.


	5. The Story of Tonight (Steve Rogers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Steve x Reader
> 
> Request: “It’s a paradise, it’s a warzone”
> 
> Summary: Steve has rescued Bucky and the battle against Tony and the others looms. Knowing this can only end badly; you want a final night with Steve before everything goes to hell.
> 
> Warning: Unprotected sex, general smuttiness. Spoilers for Civil War.

You watched the boys talking from your makeshift seat at the bottom of the stairs. Clint had found you a safe place to stay for the night before taking off to parts unknown. He said he knew where to find help. You prayed he knew what he was doing. 

Wanda had already gone to bed, having climbed the stairs in exhaustion and excusing herself to her room. She was the only one without a roommate. You and Steve were together, like always, and Bucky was bunking with Sam.

Sam was less than thrilled. But he knew better than to start a fight over something so minor. Besides, you began to think he derived pleasure from irritating Bucky. But Bucky was no shrinking violet, and he gave as good as he got.

They had been joking around earlier, half smiling and chuckling here and there. But as the night grew longer, their conversation became more serious. The grins disappeared and their voices lowered. You watched it sadly, feeling bereft.

This isn’t what was supposed to happen. This shouldn’t be what has become of your team.

You never regretted staying at Steve’s side through any of this. The Accords were overcomplicated and ultimately fraught with flaws and dangers. And more to the point, Bucky was not the man the government and the media seemed to determined to make him out to be. He deserved a chance, not to be locked up or executed.

The conversation came to an end and Sam wandered into the kitchen for something to drink. Bucky passed you on the stairs, giving you a shy smile as he made his way to his bedroom.

Steve paused in front of you, holding out his hand. You slipped your hand in his and allowed him to pull you up and into a comforting hug.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, face buried in your hair.

“For what?” you breathed, taking in the scent of him.

“For being here,” he sighed. “For trusting me.”

“No place I’d rather be,” you assured him, leaning back and smiling up at him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and began leading you upstairs.

You followed him into your bedroom, closing the door behind you and staring at it absentmindedly.

Steve, in the middle of discarding his shirt and getting ready for bed, noticed your distraction. “Hey,” he said with concern, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Are you okay?”

“I just…I get the feeling that everything is about to come crashing down around us,” you admitted, turning in his embrace and gazing at him sorrowfully. “And—I’m scared.”

Hearing you admit that you were afraid physically pained Steve. He knew you never liked to acknowledge what perceived as weaknesses. For you to confess such fear was heart-wrenching.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” he apologized, feeling deeply ashamed.

“You didn’t drag me anywhere,” you admonished him. “And this isn’t your fault. The Accords are wrong. Tony is wrong. You’re just doing what you feel is right. And I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“I needed to hear that,” he exhaled in relief. “I needed to hear that you believed in me.”

“I believe in you, Steve Rogers,” your smile was honest but dimmed. “I believe in Bucky. I believe that Sam is going to fight with you every step of the way. I believe that Wanda isn’t afraid of herself anymore. I believe Clint is going to come back with someone amazing to help us.”

Steve rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I just hope it’s enough,” you whispered, swallowing tightly.

“I love you, you know that?” he murmured, opening his eyes and staring deep into yours.

“Prove it, soldier,” you teased, your mouth fighting a smile. Steve chuckled, but held you closer.

His head dipped slightly and his lips met yours with gentle pressure. His kiss was all sweetness and adoration. Tonight wasn’t about passion and lust. Tonight was about love.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, letting your tongue tangle with his as he led you to the bed.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pulled away to turn his attention to your clothes. He slipped your t-shirt off easily, before flicking the clasps of your bra open and tossing it aside. His hands explored your breasts before sliding down your stomach. His fingers reached your jeans, unbuttoning them swiftly and slowly peeling them off.

Now left in only your panties, you bit your lip and tilted your head. “You’re looking a little too overdressed, Stevie.”

“By all means,” he smirked, as your hands drifted over his strong shoulders, across his pecs, and down his abdomen, before settling at his waist. With a flick of your wrist, his button was undone and his zipper down. You slid your hands inside the waist of his khakis, grabbing hold of his boxer shorts too, and bent over sensually as you drew them to the floor.

You felt Steve give your ass a teasing slap and you inhaled sharply. 

“Now who’s overdressed?” he countered, standing in all his naked glory. 

He pushed you gently onto the bed, laying you down and kneeling in between your legs. Gripping your hips and giving your ass an appreciative squeeze, he finally twisted the fabric of your panties in his fingers and slipped them off you, leaving you delightfully bare to his gaze.

Steve didn’t hesitate, his fingers parting your lips as he tongue licked you from your pussy to clit. You moaned, letting your hand knot in his hair as he pushed him encouragingly. 

Focused on your pleasure, he circled your clit while teasing you with one finger, then two. You were soaking wet, using your free hand to play with your breasts, as he grew bolder.

Hearing the familiar sounds of your approaching orgasm, Steve sped up the movement of his fingers, finding your g-spot and rubbing it mercilessly. Unable to wait any longer, you came hard, throwing your arm over your mouth to muffle your scream.

Your arm was pulled away from your face as Steve climbed up your body. He smiled down at you, taking in the beauty of your flushed face. He traced the line of your jaw with his fingers before you reached up and pulled him into a deep, slow kiss. You could taste yourself on him and it only left you craving more.

You could feel his hard cock at your entrance and you adjusted your hips slightly, silently telling him you were ready. 

His cock slid inside you, making you feel achingly full. Steve halted his movement, in case you needed time to adjust, but you were ready. Swiveling your hips in invitation, you released his mouth to take in a deep breath.

Steve’s mouth had new focus on your neck, sucking and biting at the spot you loved as his hands found purchase on your hips. His thrusts were slow and deep. He wanted to make this last. The desperation in your moans and tightness of your pussy were not making that easy. 

His rhythm became steadier, harder, and you must him with every thrust. Forcing himself away from your neck, he found himself looking into your eyes, trying to memorize the look of ecstasy on your face. You met his stare shamelessly.

Feeling the pressure building inside you, you sped up your movements, gripping him tightly as you felt the rush of pleasure take over you. Steve, overwhelmed by the sensation, lost his rhythm entirely, driving into with abandon as his own orgasm overtook him and he groaned out his pleasure.

The two of you stayed like that, entwined in each other. Your hands moved to caress his face, skimming over his full lips and the outline of his jaw.

“I love you,” you said tenderly, and he smiled down at you adoringly.

“Everything will be okay,” he swore, dropping a sweet kiss on your lips. “I promise.”

You smiled, feeling hopeful but realistic, and he shifted in bed, laying at your side and pulling you to his chest. 

Sleep did not come easy for you that night, despite your exhaustion. 

The next day, you found yourselves in a fight with Tony and your former teammates. At the end of the day, Rhodey was gravely injured, Steve and Bucky left for Siberia, and you and your team were held prisoner in the Raft.

Too many times in the day now, you were left to stare at the wall of your cell. They never said love was easy, you mused. But you didn’t know it would be this hard.


	6. Right Here Waiting (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Right Here Waiting
> 
> Pairing: Bucky x Reader
> 
> Request: You're an engineer like Tony and Hydra takes you and forces you work on Bucky and slowly you fall in love with him.

You wondered if they noticed you were missing. Stark Industries was such a large company, and there were too many engineers to count working for Tony Stark. The billionaire had a lot on his plate: running a company, being Iron Man, and working with the Avengers. A lot of stuff got pushed off to the wayside. People go unnoticed. 

In your case, people get kidnapped.

You liked to think that your boss grew concerned the first day you missed work without calling in. That eventually the police were called and your apartment searched. That they would come to realize you did not just decide to disappear or run away of your own free will.

But internally you feared your absence had been glossed over. You tended to keep to yourself at work, feeling more comfortable on your own in the lab than socializing with your coworkers. You never attended one of the company parties. People knew you, but didn’t know you. And you had liked it that way. 

Now your tendency to be a loner came back to bite you in the ass.

You had a routine, simple but you enjoyed it. After a long day at work, you would walk a couple blocks to a quiet café for a cup of tea before heading home for the night. I gave you a chance to decompress outside of the deafening silence of your apartment.

All you wanted that Tuesday night was a damn cup of tea. You never did get it. Passing an alley on the way to the café, an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand clapped over your mouth. You felt yourself being dragged into the blackness of the alley and you tried to scream for help. You only ended up inhaling chloroform and passing out.

Not your finest moment. 

When you came to, you were propped up in a chair in what appeared to be a bank vault. You tried to move; to dash for the exit, but your legs were still weak and a sudden, steady hand on your shoulder kept you in your seat.

You looked up at the man pressing you down and felt a shiver of fear. He was all dark features, angular and stern, glaring down at you warningly. More worrisome, he was holding an assault rifle.

The door to the vault opened and a number of security guards walked in. Dressed head to toe in tactical clothing; you were left wondering why your kidnappers were going so overboard. You hadn’t so much as thrown a punch in your entire life. Certainly you didn’t warrant such extreme measures. 

But then a well dressed man in a tailored suit entered and you knew why they were taking such precautions.

Alexander Pierce, former member of the World Security Council and current head of SHIELD. He couldn’t have word getting out that he was into some bad business. No witnesses. Which was bad news for you. 

“I apologize for the manner in which you were brought here,” he offered in consolation, sliding a stool in front of you and taking a seat. “You’ll find that discretion is of the utmost importance to me.”

The man behind you shifted a bit, smirking, but his hand remained threateningly on your shoulder.

“I…I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” you stammered, feeling your heart in your throat. “I’m a low-level engineer for Stark Industries. I don’t know anything about Iron Man or SHIELD. I’m pretty sure Tony Stark doesn’t know I exist.”

“And that is precisely why I chose you,” Pierce smiled gently, and you were confused by his congenial behavior. He acted as if he wanted to put you at ease, but you could hardly feel comfortable in a room with one of the world’s most powerful men staring you down and guns pointed at you.

“You have to understand,” he leant forward, “I am in charge of a very important project. One that requires only the best. I’ve looked through your files. Top of your class, amazing potential, and Tony Stark is letting you waste away in his labs. It’s a shame really. He does have many valuable, intelligent people working for him, you know. But you were perfect for this position. You don’t like to draw attention to yourself, you don’t make waves. You do what is needed of you, and then just—go home. I need someone with that kind of dedication and efficiency. So I had you brought here, to meet with me.”

“You couldn’t have just called?” you squeaked, and the man behind you snorted.

“I’m afraid not,” Pierce shook his head. Standing, he moved around the vault, bringing your attention to the strange pieces of furniture that now held your attention. 

A chair, reminiscent of something from a doctor’s office, was center stage. There were metal cuffs at the wrists and arms. Above it, some mechanism you only guessed would be attached to someone’s head. Next to the chair was a table. A computer was patched together and wired to the headpiece. The whole setup made you feel vaguely sick.

“There is someone I would like you to meet,” Pierce interrupted your perusal, nodding to a pair of the guards. Moments later, they returned with a strange man in tow.

He was tall and strong, all muscle, with the exception of his fascinating left arm which appeared to be made of metal. You longed to study the mechanism, having never seen a prosthesis like it before, but something stopped you. His head was bowed and he refused to meet anyone’s eyes. His expression was blank but you could feel the sorrow coming from him.

Your eyes met his for just a heartbeat, but the fear and loss you saw in them made you ache.

“Take a seat,” Pierce ordered, and the man walked calming to that dreadful chair, carefully seating himself on the edge.

“We call him the Asset,” he explained, making his way to your side. You felt that threatening hand finally leave your shoulder and relaxed minutely, only to tense up again when Alexander Pierce settled a pseudo-fatherly hand on your upper back. 

“Look at him,” he entreated, “he’s has been made into the perfect weapon. He is our most valuable possession. And he needs the best care to see that he remains that way. His physical injuries heal quickly,” he added dismissively, “but his arm is practically a work of art. It needs to be maintained, improved,” he smiled slightly. “That is why you are here. You have a brilliant mind, and I am giving you the chance to put it to proper use.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I can do this,” you stammered, looking at what had become of this man. They now spoke of him like a machine, an object. You couldn’t do that to him as well.

“If I made it appear that you had a choice,” Pierce sighed, “I do apologize. You will do this. In return you will be well taken care of. You will be doing your country a great service. The Asset has shaped this very century. You will see to it that his work can continue.”

It was obvious that there was no use in arguing. Pierce wouldn’t hear it. You couldn’t fight your way out of this mess, even if you had any martial training. There were too many men with too many guns.

Taking your silence as acquiescence, Pierce stepped away from you. “We’ll begin fresh tomorrow,” he grinned. “For now, Agent Rumlow will see you to your room.” Rumlow’s hand took your arm and lifted you from your chair, pushing you a couple steps forward. Pierce didn’t look to be going anywhere just yet, scooting his stool toward the Asset and staring at his creation with wonderment. You heard him demand, “Mission report,” but then Rumlow had dragged you bodily from the room and you could hear and see nothing more.

Your room was not luxurious. Grey, concrete walls surrounded you. A cot was set up with a meager mattress and linens. There was a stack of books in the corner beside a desk. Your recognized them. They were all texts from your library at home. They had been thorough.

“Sleep,” Rumlow ordered, shoving you through the doorway and hovering ominously outside your room. “And word of advice, kid? Don’t run. You run, they’ll send him after you.” A bleak grin crossed his face. “And I’d hate to see what he’d do to a pretty one like you.” 

With that terrible thought in your mind, sleep would not come that night. You tossed and turned, thinking about the man, the Asset. You wondered how much of him was left, how much of him was still human. If his eyes were anything go by, some part of him remained.

Your next meeting with the Asset was less dramatic but still tense. Three guards remained in the vault this time, watching over both you and the Asset. He didn’t say anything when you were escorted inside. He remained silent when you were directed to look over his arm and study his medical records. He just sat there, in that chair, as if dead to the world.

“I’m going to touch your arm,” you said softly, giving him a chance to object. The guards laughed, but you saw him relax slightly at your words. Meeting his eyes, you gave him a shaky smile as you gently let your fingers run over the plates of his arm, studying their curvature and movement. 

The first few visits you shared were much the same. You would study, learn about how his arm worked, how he worked. And before you ever went to touch him, you would let him know. He seemed to appreciate that. You wanted him to know that you wouldn’t hurt him. That he could trust you.

There were moments, when you’d walk into the vault and see him waiting for you that you’d see the corner of his lips turn up a little. You’d smile in return and he would focus wholly on you for the rest of your session. You liked those moments, when he was able to shut out the guards and the guns, and just be with you. You valued those moments almost as much as he did. 

You read his files, from cover to cover, as you sat in your room. You felt the need to know him, who he was, who he had been. You never expected for the Asset to be James Buchanan Barnes.

He was a legend. You remembered learning about him in school. You even got a chance to see the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian, where he featured heavily. The only Hollowing Commando to give his life in service of his country. At least that was the official story. Death might have been preferable to what really happened to the poor man. 

You had a feeling Rumlow knew about your digging. And if Rumlow knew, then so did Pierce. But they never did anything about it. You understood their reasons for allowing it. The Asset wasn’t just a weapon to you, he was Bucky Barnes, and they knew you’d protect Bucky Barnes. 

Something big was happening. 

Bucky had been sent on a mission the day before. He returned unharmed but Pierce wasn’t pleased with the results. Apparently his quarry had escaped. 

A few days after, Bucky was dispatched on another mission. Hours later when he was led back into the vault; you knew something went horribly wrong.

You had been called in to do diagnostics on his arm. An agent reported it had taken an electrical hit, and been stabbed, so there may have been damage that needed fixing.

Bucky’s face wasn’t passive anymore. His expression was confused, doubtful. You bit your lip anxiously as Pierce demanded a mission report and Bucky could only sit there stunned.

“But I knew him,” he muttered, and Pierce went deadly still.

“Who?” he hissed, stepping forward threateningly.

“The man on the bridge,” Bucky’s eyes met yours pleadingly. “I knew him.”

Before you could react, Pierce punched him in the jaw and you stifled a shout. Bucky merely looked up at him, unimpressed. Pierce began a rambling speech about all the work Bucky had done, the great things he accomplished, but you couldn’t draw your attention away from his hands, clenched furiously on the arms of the chair.

“Wipe him,” Pierce ordered sharply, and your eyes widened. “And start over.” He left the room, taking a number of guards with him, and you watched desperately as Bucky opened his mouth to accept a bite guard, and was pushed back into the chair.

The metal restraints bound him, and the headpiece was brought down and attached by a doctor. Another man in a lab coat was typing furiously into a computer. You stared helplessly at Bucky, but you saw no anger at you in his eyes. Instead, his gaze only held sadness.

The process didn’t take long, but you would never get the sound of his screams out of your head. 

When they were done, he was a clean slate. There was no trace of the Bucky you had begun to see. He stared ahead mutely. 

The doctors no longer needed, they removed his restraints and packed up their supplies before being escorted out of the vault.

“Get to work,” a guard huffed, and you took stumbling steps toward Bucky. Your movement caught his attention and he turned his head, watching you carefully.

You sat on the stool beside him, unsure if how to proceed.

“I—I’m going to touch your arm,” you whispered, and he tilted his head curiously. 

The repairs took some time. The electrical current didn’t do much damage, but the knife severed a couple of gears that needed to be replaced. The guards remained, but they were idle and bored.

The deadness in Bucky’s eyes haunted you. You couldn’t let this continue. You couldn’t watch as they destroyed this man. 

With a glance at the guards, you leaned forward, appearing to adjust a bolt in Bucky’s arm.

“Can you take out the guards?” you murmured, barely moving your mouth. Bucky eyed you inquisitively. He gave a small nod. “You need to get out of here. Do whatever you can, just go. The guard near the door has a passkey, take it with you. It will get you out of the building.”

Your eyes drifted back to the guards, but they didn’t appear to know anything was amiss. Bucky’s eyes narrowed.

“When you get out of the building, run,” you said sharply. 

There was a long silence. Bucky never stopped staring at you.

“What about you?” he rasped, looking uncertain.

You smiled grimly, “I don’t matter, it’s why they picked me.” He frowned, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. “Run. You understand me? And don’t stop running.”

At the hard determination in your voice, something shifted in him. He was a soldier, he was used to taking orders.

Sitting back on the stool, you took one last look at him, wishing you could see that hint of a smile he used to give you. It never appeared. With a deep breath, you clasped your hands in your lap and said quietly, “Go.”

He moved like lightening, striking the unsuspecting guards before they could blink. You threw yourself to the floor as bullets ricocheted off the walls. The shooting didn’t last long. The guards were dead and Bucky was headed for the halls.

You heard him pause at the door, even as rapid footsteps approached, but you never looked up at him. He needed to forget about you.

Seconds later he was gone, and more rounds of gunfire were exchanged. 

Knowing you likely wouldn’t survive the night; you stayed curled up in a ball, hoping against hope he made it out alive.

 

Two years later Bucky was able to finally stop running. 

The man from the bridge, Steve Rogers, had found him. He saved him, in more ways than one. 

Steve once asked how Bucky had escaped from HYDRA. He didn’t remember much. “There was a girl,” he recalled, pensive and solemn. “She helped me.”

“What happened to her?” Steve wondered, and Bucky felt guilt blossom in his chest. 

“I left her behind,” he admitted shamefully. “She told me to run, and I just…left her there.” 

“She wanted to help you, Buck,” Steve tried to console his best friend, but Bucky looked forlorn.

He couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered her kind voice and soft smiles. “Who was going to help her?”

That was a question Steve couldn’t answer.


	7. I Forget Myself (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: I Forget Myself
> 
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Request: Sequel to Right Here Waiting. (Was supposed to be a one shot, but it got away from me. There will be a second chapter.)
> 
> Summary: Bucky escaped HYDRA, but you weren’t so lucky.

Part 1/2:

 

Three Years Earlier

You didn’t bother to run. Bucky had taken the guard’s passkey and you didn’t know where another one was. You could weave through the halls all you’d like, even if you managed to survive in the confusion and chaos left behind in the Asset’s wake, the doors to the outside wouldn’t open for you.

So you stayed on the floor, trying to ignore the fact that you were covered in blood spatter that was slowly seeping through your clothes.

Brock Rumlow and his men found you after the screams and gunshots had died down. He stepped into the vault, taking note of the three dead guards before turning his gaze to you. Tilting your head up, allowing yourself to look at the carnage for the first time, you cringed. 

Sneering, Rumlow grabbed you by the arm, hoisting you up and checking you over for injuries. When it became clear that the blood covering you was not your own, he shoved you towards one of his men and ordered him to lock you up in your room. He’d deal with you later.

There wasn’t anything for you to do besides wait. You wondered if the anticipation of your death was more terrifying than the real thing. You supposed you’d find out soon enough.

He left you in there for three days. No food or water had been delivered. You were given no chance to use a proper bathroom. So you were in quite a state by the time your door opened and a nameless soldier came in to lead you to your punishment.

You were taken into a barren room, but the rust colored stains on the floor told you this place had seen much violence. Pushed into a chair, your arms and legs were restrained by rope. It didn’t take long for Rumlow to make his presence known.

“Tell me something,” he cajoled, “when the Asset escaped, why did he leave you untouched?” 

“I don’t know,” you rasped, and he shook his head.

“I think you do,” Brock disagreed. “This is hardly the first time the Asset has become…unstable. But he has a pattern, and that usually includes lashing out at the poor son of a bitch who happens to be standing closest to him. And if I recall, you were working on his arm when his switch flipped.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” you denied, unable to meet his eyes. “Maybe he didn’t see me as a threat.”

“Or maybe you helped him escape,” he barked, eyes shining with fury. He took a moment to calm himself, and his visible anger subsided as a small smile appeared on his face. “Pierce has ordered your death.” You felt your heart skip a beat. “And it’s coming, sweetheart. But first, I’m going to find the Asset. And after I drag his ass back here, he’s going to be the one pulling the trigger.”

There was a certain freedom in knowing that your death was inevitable. You didn’t beg, plead, or cry. Rumlow seemed a little disappointed. You took a small amount of pleasure from that. 

If you were going to die anyway, you just prayed that Bucky had made it far away from this godforsaken place. Seeing Rumlow fail one last time, knowing Bucky was free, would make sure your death meant something. 

A week later and you were still occupying that desolate room. 

The chair was gone, and you had taken to lying on the floor in between rounds of torture. Rumlow hadn’t returned and you took heart in that. It meant he still hadn’t found Bucky. 

Something big must have happened on the outside in the meantime. Soldiers were beginning to scatter, equipment was being dismantled, and frantic whispers were in the air. 

With all the chaos, you were beginning to wonder if they would all simply disappear one day, leaving you behind to starve to death. 

More weeks passed and there was no sign of Alexander Pierce. But one man did make a stunning entrance.

Flesh red, scarred, and peeling, Brock Rumlow looked like he had been set ablaze. It amazed you that he was alive let alone able to walk, even if his steps were stunted and forced.

He dropped into a chair one of the four soldiers with him brought into your chamber. Letting out a long, pained breath, he studied your form. The bruises dotting your body would fade, but the long scar from your temple to the corner of your mouth would always be there. The thought made him smile.

“Pierce is dead,” he said bluntly, finally breaking the silence. “Good ole Captain America managed to save the day and topple HYDRA,” he mocked. “And SHIELD, for that matter. Then he dropped a building on me. And you’ll never guess who helped him.”

Your eyes met his beseechingly, and he looked back at you scornfully.

“That’s right, your little buddy Bucky was there to save the day.” You bit back a smile, but he noticed. “Of course, he didn’t bother to save you. Apparently you aren’t worth the effort.”

You tried not to let it bother you, you knew it wasn’t personal, that Brock was just trying to hurt you. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. 

“Now that Pierce is dead, I don’t have to follow his orders,” he continued, and your brows furrowed in confusion. “You see, death is too easy. You cost us the Asset. You helped lead to HYDRA’s destruction. You’re responsible for this thing,” he said derisively, “that I’ve become. And I am going to see that you pay.”

With a nod to his men, they stepped forward and you found two sets of arms pulling you to your feet and dragging you out of the room. Brock followed at a slower pace. The scenery began to look familiar, and your heart dropped into your stomach when you spotted the bank vault.

The blood and bodies were long gone, but that dreadful chair and all its components remained. 

“Made sure they kept it, just for you,” he smirked as you were tossed into the chair. The metal restraints settled around your arms and wrists before you could muster up a fight. The headpiece was soon attached. They didn’t bother with the mouth guard. You could break all your teeth for all he cared.

“You took everything from me,” he grunted, pulling up a stool to watch. “Now I’m going to take everything from you. Your life, Bucky Barnes, your name, all of it will be gone. You’ll be left alone in the world, without a clue who you are. No one will be able to help you. And if you ask me, that’s a hell of a lot worse that a bullet to the head.”

You muttered a desperate “Please,” but he didn’t waver.

Turning his attention to the man behind the computer, he gave the order. “Wipe her,” he then looked to his men, “Then dump the bitch.”

You barely made out their amused smirks before the electrical current hit you and your screams filled the room.

 

Present Day

 

You felt like you were being followed.

Paranoia was nothing new. When you know nothing of who you are, instinct tells you to be naturally suspicious. Not to mention that scars that adorned or face and back, they spoke of a terrible past you were wary of returning to. 

Ducking into a church, you skipped the pews, opting to hideout in the more secluded back rooms. If you were lucky, no one would be there, and if you were unlucky, parishioners and priests tended to take pity on the homeless. At least you’d be out of sight from whoever was tailing you.

At least that is what you had hoped for, but your tail was persistent. Only seconds later he was slipping into the quiet rectory behind you. 

Seeing you on the defensive, he raised his hands slowly, doing his best to show you he wasn’t a threat. Tall and trim, he cut an intimidating figure, but the gentle smile on his face and his kind eyes made you want to trust him. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said softly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. “My name is Sam Wilson. I’m a…counselor. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” you demanded. No one wanted to talk to you, and the feeling was generally mutual.

“I have something you might want to see,” he explained, moving his hand slowly to his jacket and pulling out a file. You watched his every move carefully, ready to bolt. He extended the file to you, and after a moment of hesitation, you grabbed it.

Eyes darting from the man to the file and back, you let your body relax slightly before finally taking a good look at the papers in your hand.

The file was filled with documents, but most concerning were the pictures. They were of you. But there was no prominent scar. They were all from before the—accident, before whatever it was that stole your memories from you. You looked, if not happy, at least content. You stopped when you found a badge with your picture on it. Stark Industries. And there was a name.

“What is this?” you asked, voice shaky. 

“This is you,” he smiled cautiously. 

“How did you get all this? How did you find me?” you asked, rapid fire.

“You’ve been missing for a few years,” Sam explained as kindly as he could. “Your boss, Tony Stark,” he nodded towards the work identification, “he’s a smart guy. That time you went to the hospital for the headaches, they ran your prints. Stark got the alert that you’d been found. But before he could come help you, you took off.”

You licked your lips, trying to take all this in. “Why would my boss care if I went missing? Didn’t I have any friends or family?”

“From what I know, you didn’t have much in the way of friends or family. You didn’t like to get close to people,” he admitted, not judging you. “But you work for a man who cares a lot about the people in his life, employees included. And he has a bit of a hero complex,” Sam chuckled.

“What did I do? It wasn’t—bad, was it?” you wondered hesitantly.

“Not all!” he dismissed easily, “You were an engineer, one of the best and the brightest according to Stark. You were working on clean energy.”

“Then why—” you muttered, before letting your thought fade out.

“Why what?” Sam pressed gently.

“I have nightmares,” you said frankly, feeling desperate at the thought that he might have some answers. “I’m working on something…someone, there’s men with guns around me, and then there’s screaming and blood and I—”

“Hey,” he interrupted your increasingly anxious ramble, placing his hands softly on your shoulders to comfort you. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Something traumatic happened to you when you disappeared. The nightmares, they could be memories, or just your mind’s way of dealing with the stress. But if you let me, I can help you. Talk you through it, maybe even help you recover some memories.”

“Why do you want to help me?” you murmured, sorrowful. 

“You’re not the first person I know to have PTSD,” he smiled sadly. “And you won’t be the last. But I help people, it’s what I do. And if you trust me, I can help you deal with your trauma and we can start piecing back together your life.”

“What do I have to do?” you wondered briefly if you were crazy to trust this stranger, but you were pretty sure you were crazy as it is anyway.

“Tony Stark has a safe place all set up for you,” Sam revealed. “If you are ready to come with me, then we’ll hop on a private jet courtesy of your insanely wealthy boss, and we go home. After that, we can just talk. It’s all up to you.”

There was a long pause, and then you looked up at him hopefully. “I get to ride in a private jet?” you asked shyly.

Sam laughed, “Yeah, and it’s well stocked. We’ll get you something to eat, okay?” he offered, leading you protectively out of the rectory and the church. “You’re all bones, kid.”

“I could use a sandwich,” you considered. 

Fifteen minutes later and the two of you arrived at the airport. To be honest, you had still remained skeptical of all his claims, even as you climbed in the car with him. You knew you were essentially putting your life in his hands, but you could hardly see the downside at this point. Your life couldn’t really sink much lower.

But there was the private plane he had told you about, sitting invitingly on the tarmac. 

With a confident grin, he opened the car door for you, slipping your arm in his as he escorted you to the jet. A flight attendant, all smiles and big hair, was standing at the top of the stairs waiting to greet you. Sam gave you a gentle push up the stairs.

“Go ahead and get comfortable, I just need to give Stark a call and tell him the good news,” he said, and you nodded curiously before following his directions.

When you were out of sight, Sam pulled out his cell phone and dialed Tony. Stark picked up after two rings. “What’s the word?”

“I found her,” Sam sighed, “but she’s a mess. She doesn’t remember a damn thing.”

“But she’s agreed to come with you?” Tony looked for this bright side in this whole disaster.

“She’s coming,” he agreed. “But I’m telling you, you’re going to need kid gloves with this one.”

“Gotcha,” Tony let out a weary sigh. “And what do I tell our other resident amnesiac?”

“Tell Bucky to give her some space,” he frowned. “As far as I can tell, she doesn’t remember him. And when she does, there’s no telling how she’ll react.”


	8. I Forget Myself (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Part Two of "I Forget Myself"

Part Two:

 

You thought the plane would land at an airport. Not a wholly unreasonable expectation. You were sorely mistaken though.

“Um, where are we?” you squeaked.

“This is the Avengers facility,” Sam announced proudly, looking down on the sprawling acres that he now called home. Tony had done a complete overhaul on some old Stark property, and had given them a home where SHIELD could begin to rebuild and the team could stay safe, away from the chaos of downtown New York and Washington D.C. 

“You're an Avenger?” you asked in shock. You felt overwhelmed suddenly, by the plane, the facility, and the superheroes. You had spent the last few years as a nomad, staying out of sight. It felt far too strange to capture the attention of such powerful people. 

“Stark likes to call me Cap’s sidekick,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, “but I am no man’s sidekick.”

“Which one are you?” you felt a strange sense of wonderment.

“They call me Falcon,” he said with an amused grin. “You do realize your boss is an Avenger too?”

“Oh gosh, which one is he?” you moaned, embarrassed by your total lack of knowledge.

“Iron Man.” Sam chuckled at your shocked expression. “So I take it you've heard of Iron Man. Didn't you know the famously humble Tony Stark was the notorious man in the iron mask?”

“I've heard about the Avengers, I'm homeless not a hermit,” you said in bemusement, feeling a teensy bit defensive. “I've seen a couple pictures and news clips here and there, but I never paid much attention. I didn't think it mattered, I guess. I never thought I’d meet any of you.”

“We’re just normal people, for the most part,” Sam shrugged with a half smile. “Although don’t call Tony normal. He considers himself exceptional.” Your eyes were glued on the buildings as the plane began its descent, and Sam was relieved that you didn’t look fearful, just possibly a bit intimidated. Fear would be a much harder thing to overcome.

“You can take it easy tonight,” Sam continued, “I know this is all a little…overwhelming. But this is about your comfort level. Nobody will push you to do anything you don’t want, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, finally dragging your eyes from the window and back to your companion. “Who else is here?”

“There will be some old SHIELD agents that come and go, but they won’t bother you,” Sam assured you. “It’s mostly the team that you’ll run into on a regular basis. There’s Stark, my handsome self,” he grinned and you smothered a laugh, “Natasha, she’s known as the Black Widow. Clint, aka Hawkeye, Wanda, Bruce, Pepper, she’s Tony’s girlfriend and the CEO of Stark Industries. I guess she’s technically your boss too. And of course, Captain America himself, Steve Rogers.”

“Is an alter ego required to join your little club?” you snorted, and Sam barked a laugh. 

“Apparently,” he smirked.

“I might be a disappointment to your friends then,” you muttered, shifting awkwardly in your seat. “No alter ago here. Just amnesia and a lot of emotional baggage.”

“We’ve got one of those too,” Sam replied tentatively, testing the waters. “I suppose he’s got an alter ego too, so technically he fits.”

“Who is that?” you asked curiously, taking notice of Sam’s hesitation. 

“They used to call him the Winter Soldier,” he said, taking his time and gauging your reaction as he spoke. “He was kidnapped, lost his memory, like you.”

“Did he get it back? His memory?” you leaned forward in your chair, in rapt attention.

“Some,” Sam admitted. “It’s a work in progress. He knows who he is now, and his past is coming back to him in bits and pieces.”

You weren’t sure if you’d consider this man lucky or not. There were some days you’d give anything to remember who you really were and what your life had been like. And there were other moments when you feared those memories more than death itself. What if you hated the person you were? What if you had done horrible things in the past? Maybe it was a blessing that you couldn’t remember.

“What’s his name?” you murmured, feeling a little dazed.

“His real name is James,” Sam replied cautiously, “but everyone calls him Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

You didn’t react with any sign of recognition or shock, and Sam wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing. But he did notice your hand going to your temple, rubbing it unconsciously.

“You okay?” he double-checked as the jet began taxing. 

“Headache,” you sighed, sitting back in your chair and closing your eyes. “I get them a lot. I finally broke down and went to see a doctor once, but it didn’t go well. No insurance. Plus I didn’t have ID or anything. I heard them talking about an involuntary hold and I took off.”

“We have some great doctors here,” he said gently. “They might be able to help you. At least get the pain under control. And if there’s a test you’re not cool with, you can walk away anytime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you promised, the best you could offer at the moment. You weren’t in any hurry to have someone poking and prodding you, looking at your scars, judging you. But the headaches were a nuisance and if they could fix them, you might be willing to give it a shot.

“That’s all I ask,” Sam smiled comfortingly. 

Soon enough the flight attendant returned, letting you both know it was safe to disembark the plane. You grabbed the file he had given you, full of papers and pictures of you, holding it like a treasured possession as you made your way down the steps.

You had no bags, so there was no need to wait around. Sam gave your arm a squeeze and you looked up at him for reassurance.

With a smile, he slipped your arm in his and led you forward. “Welcome home.”

 

 

One Week Later 

 

“How’s she holding up?” Steve asked Sam, watching as you sat on the couch in the lounge, silently reading a book. Both men were leaning against the kitchen counter, one trying his best not to appear nosy, the other too tired to bother.

“She’s hanging in there,” Sam shrugged. “It’s a big adjustment. She’s been handling all the changes really well, but…”

“What?” Steve frowned. He felt terrible for the position you had been put in. And doubly so because everything you did was to save Bucky. Steve was supposed to save Bucky. The guilt he carried because of his failure to help his best friend, and in turn you, ate at him.

“The docs took a look at her brain scans,” he sighed. “They think the chances of her getting her memory back are slim to none. There’s damage—she didn’t have a super serum in her bloodstream, helping her to heal.”

“So that’s it? She’ll never remember who she was? Or Buck?” Steve’s expression fell. Bucky had been doing his best to stay out of sight, to not stall any progress you might be making. Steve knew it was killing him to do so, but he wanted to do what was right for you, not what would make him happy. And now you might never remember him.

“She’s got fragments of memories,” Sam studied you momentarily. “She’s started to talk to me about her nightmares. From what I can tell, it’s a mix of fact and her subconscious trying to cope with all the trauma. She remembers working on someone, the soldiers always standing guard; the only person she’s been able to describe with any clarity is Rumlow. But I don’t know if she’ll ever recall more than that.”

Steve remained silent after that revelation, letting it all sink in. Pushing himself away from the counter, Sam clapped him on the back and left the room. You all needed a break. Steve followed not long after, giving you a timid smile as he left the lounge.

Now that you were alone, your body finally began to relax.

Your stay at the facility had been pleasant enough so far. Everyone had been very nice to you. Tony answered some of your more basic questions about your previous work in his labs. Pepper invited you to tour the Tower whenever you wished. Sam let you talk to him about anything and everything. You weren’t much for talking, but having someone to confide in about your nightmares had come as a relief.

Bruce helped oversee your medical team, and his quiet and calm demeanor put you at ease. You never would have thought this man was the notorious Hulk. There didn’t appear to be an angry bone in his body.

Natasha and Clint came by occasionally, and they stuck to light banter and jokes around you. Their closeness filled you with a strange sense of envy. You didn’t have anyone in your life to trade inside jokes with, or that knew what you were thinking with just a look. You wondered if you ever did.

Steve was interesting. He was a consummate gentleman, polite as can be. But you found him staring at you some times, like he was expecting something to happen. Whatever he was looking for when he studied you, he hadn’t found it yet. You hated to disappoint him, but you had no clue what he was in search of.

Bucky had remained conspicuously absent.

You wondered what kept him away. Was he too caught up in his own troubles? 

The sound of footsteps in the kitchen woke your from your daydreaming. 

The man rustling through the refrigerator hadn’t taken notice of you. His hair, brushing his shoulders, covered his face. His simple t-shirt revealed an intriguing feature: a remarkable metal arm. Your fingers itched to touch it.

“You must be James,” you called out, biting your lip when he jerked in surprise, spinning around to face you. “Sam says everyone calls you Bucky, though.”

“Sorry,” he cursed himself, closing the door to the fridge. “I didn’t think anyone was in here.” 

“It’s not a problem,” you assured him, “sorry for startling you.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Bucky said, shifting on his feet nervously. “I should be the one apologizing.”

“For what?” you asked in confusion.

For leaving you behind. For letting Brock Rumlow torture you. For the scars on your body. For everything you’ve lost over the past three years. “For not introducing myself,” he mumbled. “I just—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, pained by the shame emanating from him. “I’m kind of a loner, myself. I’m not used to having people around all the time.”

“Me too,” he nodded, hanging his head. 

“You can sit,” you suggested, gesturing to the free spot on the couch. “We can be alone, together. We don’t have to talk.”

After a minute, he allowed himself to take slow, careful steps toward you. He sat gingerly on the couch cushion, hands folded in his lap anxiously. The two of you sat in companionable silence for a while. Before long, Bucky began to feel your curious eyes on him.

When he turned his head and looked at you questioningly, you took a deep breath. “I…Tony says I was engineer,” you stammered. “And I just—your arm,” he openly flinched and you felt foolish. “It’s kind of fascinating,” you finished, embarrassed. 

“Most people find it scary,” he muttered, dropping his gaze. “Think I’m a monster.” 

“Most people are idiots,” you said baldly. “It’s a prosthetic. A really cool one, but still a prosthetic.”

He debated internally before reaching out his metal hand, giving you a chance to study it up close.

“Can I—I’m going to touch your arm,” you gave him the chance to pull away if he felt uncomfortable, but he just smiled wistfully and remained still. 

Your fingers traced the layers of metal, amazed at the smoothness, as you listened to the quiet whir of gears every time he moved. Seeing that his sad smile remained, you allowed yourself to be bold. “What is that look for?”

“You just reminded me of someone,” he admitted, letting his arm drop as you finished your explorations.

“Who? If you don’t mind me asking,” you clarified. You never appreciated when people pried into your life. You didn’t want to do that to anyone yourself.

“A woman I knew, she was a technician,” he explained hesitantly. “She would fix my arm sometimes, if I got hurt. The people I was with, they didn’t care about me. But she did.” Bucky couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. Instead his head hung forlornly at the memory.

“She sounds nice,” you whispered softly, moved by his obvious distress. “I’m sorry if—I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“No,” he shook his head, giving you a tight smile. “Those were good memories.”

“Is she…what happened to her?” you found yourself wondering.

“She helped me escape,” he confessed. “After…I didn’t know what happened to her. I should have gone back.”

Seeing his lost and desolate expression, you did something out of the ordinary, scooting closer to his hunched frame you placed a small hand on his knee.

“If she helped you escape, then she wanted you to be free,” you offered a shaky smile. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to risk it all just for her.” Bucky looked into your eyes, pleading, looking for some absolution. “At least, that’s what I think,” you added shyly. 

He smiled sadly, glancing at the comforting hand on his knee and uncertainly lacing his fingers through yours. The sensation was new, but not unwelcome, and you smiled encouragingly.

“Do you think you’ll ever see her again?” you pondered.

Bucky was pensive and quiet, but eventually he gave your hand a squeeze and graced you with a crooked smile. “I hope so,” he declared, knowing there would be a long road ahead for both you and him. “Someday.”


	9. When In Doubt, Blame Tony (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: When In Doubt, Blame Tony.
> 
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Request: A scenario where your boyfriend Bucky for some reason tries to make you jealous, but you aren’t really are the jealous type, and he thinks you don’t like him that much? fluff and happy ending please
> 
> I made a couple changes so I hope that's okay.

You were currently holding up the bar in Tony’s plush lounge, trying not to focus on the man across the room that was busy entertaining a number of women with his inviting smirk. Bucky wasn’t normally so talkative around strangers, but tonight he appeared to be in a singular mood and seemed to be enjoying himself. You threw back a shot of tequila, chasing it with lime and grimacing.

At least one of you was having fun tonight.

Natasha sidled up to you, leaning back against the bar and sparing you a consolatory glance before she turned her gaze back to the party. 

“I thought you and Barnes were an item?” she commented, raising a curious brow your way as you frowned. It had been a relatively new thing, at least in the team’s eyes. You and Bucky had been dancing around each other for years, and you both finally decided to give it a go only a two months ago.

“So did I,” you snorted, with a baleful glance his way. “Apparently we were both wrong.” You weren’t sure what had changed between the two of you. As far you knew, things had been fine. But then came Tony’s party. Bucky paid you a little attention in the beginning, but soon enough left you behind. When he played pool with Steve, you didn’t mind. Those two deserved some down time with each other. When he arm wrestled Thor, you had been firmly in his corner, cheering him on. He only gave you a quick smile as Thor declared the challenge a tie, and dragged him off to parts unknown. 

You didn’t see him for nearly an hour, and when you finally spotted him he was surrounded by a gaggle of women. They were unashamedly flirting with him, touching his arms, giggling, standing as close as they could without literally hanging on to him. 

You tried to not let it bother you. The Avengers all had groupies. It was just a fact. Poor Steve got hit on more than anyone, and didn’t know what to do with himself when it happened. Those occasions usually ended with him stammering and Nat politely shooing the girls away.

Bucky was not afflicted with such a severe case of shyness. And on this particular night, he was a shameless flirt. The women enjoyed it thoroughly. You did not. 

“I can take care of them if you’d like,” Natasha offered, deadly serious. You were tempted to let her run them off using any method she pleased, but that wouldn’t be mature of you.

“They’re not the problem,” you replied with a sigh.

“Barnes could do with a swift kick to the head,” she agreed with a devilish grin. “And I’m not talking about the one attached to his neck.”

“That is one of your signature moves,” you considered, and Nat looked almost eager at the prospect.

“My Ladies!” Thor’s booming voice interrupted your scheming as he trod up to the bar, throwing a welcoming arm around you both. Natasha looked bemused, but you let out a small laugh at the blonde’s boundless enthusiasm. “You are both looking well tonight! Glorious visions of beauty that I am only too fortunate to behold!”

“Well someone’s been getting into the Asgardian liquor,” Nat grinned.

“What is a party without drink?” Thor lamented. “And I, being most generous, shared my bounty with my hearty brethren!”

“Translation?” you turned to Nat with a questioning look. Thor tended to get grandiose when he had been drinking, and could be a little hard to follow.

“He slipped the super soldiers some booze,” she returned bluntly. “Which might explain why Steve is currently curled up on Sam’s lap,” she added as she slipped her phone out of her pocket and snapped a quick photo. 

“And why Bucky is hitting on anything that moves,” you muttered sourly.

Thor grimaced, pulling back and laying an apologetic hand on your shoulder. “I am afraid that is Brother Tony’s fault. He suggested to Sergeant Barnes that making one’s partner jealous could lead to…more amorous love making.” You blushed but Thor was not so easily embarrassed and Nat just let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I believe he is attempting to court you.” 

“Yeah, well I’m not feeling particularly amorous at the moment,” you mumbled, and Thor graced you with a sad puppy dog face that made it impossible to be mad at him.

“My apologies for any role I played in your unhappiness,” he opined, bowing slightly and raising your hand to his lips for a kiss.

You didn’t get a chance to accept his apology before Bucky came striding over, his face red. 

“Hey!” he shouted, shoving Thor away from you. Considering he hadn’t used his metal arm to push him, Thor was only being kind when he took a step away from you. “No touching! She’s supposed to be the jealous one, not me!”

People were beginning to stare and you wanted no part of the unwanted attention. With a roll of your eyes, you turned and headed for the terrace. You smacked Steve on the back of the head as you passed for good measure. His confused whine made you smile. 

It took Bucky a moment to realize you were gone, and he looked to Natasha plaintively. She pointed toward the doors with an unimpressed expression. “Run, before I hurt you.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice.

The cool night air was welcome as he stepped out onto the terrace, serving to sober him up a little. You were leaning on the railing, looking out at the stars. He joined you, staring down at you anxiously, trying to figure out what to say. His head was still a bit out of sorts.

“Were you seriously trying to make me jealous?” you asked in bemusement, tired of the awkward silence. 

“Tony made it seem like a good idea,” he muttered in embarrassment. 

“Tony is a moron,” you shook your head. “He’s used to one night stands and bored socialites. Ask Pepper if she’d put up with that. Here’s a hint: the answer’s no.” 

Bucky hung his head and you almost had to laugh at how downtrodden he looked. His hair was loose, leaving his profile in shadow, but you could tell he was pouting. 

“’M sorry,” he murmured, gazing at you through his lashes. “It was dumb, I just thought…”

“What?” you sighed, turned to face him fully. He shrugged in a dopey fashion. You nearly resented him for being such a cute drunk.

“I dunno…you’re just really hot when you’re angry,” he admitted bashfully.

You couldn’t hold back your laugh this time, and he looked up at you questioningly. “It’s not fair,” you chuckled. “You can’t be this adorable right now. I almost let Nat kick you in the balls ten minutes ago.”

His confused expression turned pained. “You were really going to let her kick me?”

“In the balls,” you nodded bluntly. “Hard.” He grimaced. “You did want to make me angry,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, remind me never to do that,” he muttered, adjusting himself discreetly. With a long-suffering sigh, Bucky moved forward, dropping an arm around your waist and pulling you close as he rested his head on your shoulder. “Sorry, I promise to never listen to Tony Stark ever again.”

“Wiser words have never been spoken,” you grinned, letting yourself relax in his arms. “I’m kind of partied out, want to just go to bed?” you contemplated.

“Yes, please,” Bucky groaned eagerly, taking your hand and leading you back towards the lounge.

“You do realize you aren’t getting laid tonight?” you added for clarification. He was still in the doghouse, adorable or not.

Bucky’s footsteps faltered before he resumed walking at a more subdued pace. You had to smother a laugh when you heard him mutter “Damn.”


	10. Silence Speaks (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Silence Speaks
> 
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Request: Could I request Bucky one? Where he & "reader" never have said, "I love you" to each other, but they say it in different small things, like- making other coffee, saving others life, buying favorite food-small stuff, until Bucky unintentionally says it 1st. 
> 
> Spoilers for Civil War

Meeting Bucky Barnes truly did change your life.

Some might call you dramatic for thinking that, but it was completely true. You had been working alongside SHIELD and the Avengers for years, so wrapped up in the work and the struggle that you began to realize you didn’t really have a life outside of Stark Tower and the facility. Thankfully you weren’t the only workaholic in the bunch. Being surrounded by a bunch of superheroes had a way of making you feel normal.

When the team fractured and Steve left to find his best friend, you found yourself following him almost blindly. Steve Rogers was a good man, had lost so much in his life to save others, and all he wanted was to help his friend. If that wasn’t a noble cause, you didn’t know what was.

The years that followed were difficult, to say the least. Bucky was found, a fractured, broken man from the hell the Soviets and HYDRA put him through. He spent some time in cryostasis for his own protection as much as for everyone else’s. 

When he woke once more, T’Challa had him fitted with a new arm and doctors worked diligently to free him of the programming in his mind. It wasn’t an easy process, but his determination to succeed made you admire him even more. 

Still, Bucky was scared of the world around him. Frightened of himself. Steve took his time introducing him to new things. He kept reiterating that this was a chance for Bucky to start over, to start fresh.

Steve encouraged you to reach out to Bucky, and so you did. You always followed your Captain’s orders. And well, Bucky was hard to stay away from. There were moments when he was utterly charming and you found yourself unconsciously flirting with him. You couldn’t help but feel pleased with yourself whenever you caught him grinning brightly at something you said or did. 

He never did ask you out on a date. According to Steve, the old Bucky would have asked you out within five minutes of meeting you. But he wasn’t the old Buck anymore. Then again Steve wasn’t little Stevie anymore either. He ended up asking you out in Bucky’s stead. It was cute, if not slightly mortifying. You had never seen Bucky turn such a bright shade of red before or since.

It was nearing a year now, that you had been together. 

Yours appeared to be a perfect partnership. The two of you worked well together in the field. Bucky saved your life more times than you could count. Which was only fair. You saved his ass on a regular basis too. 

When you were home, he remained close to your side. The only exception was when he went to hang out with Steve. But upon his return, he would wrap a warm, steady arm around your waist and hold you close. 

In the mornings he would have your favorite cup of coffee waiting for you. In the evenings, he’d help you with dinner, nuzzling the crook of your neck as you idly stirred a pot on the stove.

You never doubted his devotion to you.

But those three little words, three measly words, and his reluctance to say them were beginning to eat at you.

According to Steve, Bucky used to wear his heart on his sleeve. He’d be hard pressed not to blurt out his love for the dame who caught his eye back in the day. And you knew things were different now, that he wasn’t as lighthearted and carefree as he used to be. You understood completely. 

But the months passed by and understanding his silence didn’t make it hurt any less. 

You never said anything to Bucky. And you certainly never said those three words to him either. You didn’t want to put him on the spot. You didn’t want him to feel pressured into saying it. More so, you feared he wouldn’t say anything at all. So weeks, then months went by and you tried to bury your fear that he would never love you the way you loved him, and the worry that one day your love just wouldn’t be enough anymore.

It had been a long day and you were more than ready to call it a night. Bucky was undressing in your shared bedroom as you studied your face in the mirror. 

The mission that day, while successful, had been hard on your body. Bucky had taken a few hits himself, but the serum in his blood made the cuts heal and the bruises fade in record time. You weren’t so lucky. Your ribs were sore and bruised. A black eye and a split lip adorned your face. There was a gash on your forehead where you had been hit with a blunt instrument. The blood had been washed away and the wound stitched, but your face had been covered in red earlier. Bucky’s bleak expression when he saw you was all you needed to see to know you must have looked a fright.

When you were finally released from the med bay, loaded up on painkillers, you wanted more than anything to just sleep it off.

Bucky had stayed with you as the doctor examined you. He led you to your apartments with a gentle hand on the small of your back. The only reason he didn’t follow you into the bathroom was because you insisted you could pee without assistance. 

When you stepped into the bedroom, Bucky was sitting up under the covers. He pulled back the sheets on your side. You carefully made your way to bed, turning off the lamp on your bedside table before gingerly climbing onto the mattress and scooting under the covers.

Bucky reached out for you, and you curled into his side. He was careful to avoid your ribs, settling his comforting, protective embrace around your shoulders. You rested your head on his chest, kissing it softly.

“Thanks for the rescue,” you murmured, feeling the effects of the drugs and allowing them to lull you into sleep.

“Any time,” Bucky replied, watching your face intently as you allowed yourself to relax and drift away.

Today had scared him. He’d seen you in worse condition. He’d nursed you when you suffered from bullet wounds and burns. But seeing you on the ground, dazed and covered in blood, had been a shock to his system. 

He was only beginning to relax now. The doctor had cleared you and said you would be fine. You would heal in no time. But it wasn’t until you climbed into bed and he could hold you to him that the tension could start to leave his body.

It was a constant fear of his, that one day he would lose you. He stayed alert on every mission. He would never forgive himself if he had the power to save you and somehow failed. And there were times when he questioned why he allowed himself to be with you. Why open himself up to love if it only meant opening himself to fear and pain as well?

But Steve had warned him not to wait, not to put things off until the right time. The right time is never going to come along, he sighed, and you’re going to miss out on a lot. Stevie always had been a smart kid.

A ghost of a smile crossed his face, and Bucky leaned down to place a kiss on the top of your head. As he watched you breathing deeply, eyes closed and body still, he found himself admitting, “I love you.”

With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes and let himself rest. Still in something of a haze from the medication, you heard his declaration and it brought a sleepy smile to your face.

You burrowed further into his body, holding him as close as possible, and silently promised to never let go.


	11. Imperfectly Perfect (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Imperfectly Perfect
> 
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Request: Imagine where the reader is kinda curvy and has stretch marks and is really insecure about it but Bucky reassures her that she's still beautiful and like kisses her marks and supes fluffy
> 
> Warnings: Self-esteem and body issues, general angst

Bucky expected to see you waiting for him in the underground garage of the Avenger’s facility when he returned from his mission. The sparse greeting he received in the form of Steve and Wanda came as a surprise.

It had been a simple observe and report, with most of the dirty work left up to Nat. They got to play dress up, something she didn’t mind but he wasn’t particularly fond of. He would have preferred Steve to take his place, but Captain America was just too damn recognizable. A metal arm was pretty recognizable too, which he had tried to point out to Tony, but the man simply smirked and noted a tailored suit and some snazzy gloves would do the trick. 

The party was in full swing when they arrived, arm in arm, and they were able to blend in seamlessly with the crowd. Eventually Nat snuck off to gather information and he stood guard, in case of trouble. With little fuss, she was able to copy the necessary files onto a flash drive and they were gone before anyone could take notice of their absence.

Bucky took notice of your absence upon his return. 

Normally, if you hadn’t accompanied him on the mission, you would be there to welcome him home no matter how big or small the assignment. The two of you hadn’t been together long, not officially at least, but Bucky had come to look forward to seeing your brilliant smile after a long day’s work.

Nat bowed her head, offering him a silent goodnight as she prepared for debriefing. His assistance had been minimal that night and his report could wait until morning. Steve gave him a hearty clap on the back before following Natasha, speaking with her quietly about the information she uncovered.

Wanda remained, waiting for Bucky to notice her. Her concerned expression left him with a feeling of worry.

“She is on the third floor again,” Wanda sighed sadly. “I tried to talk with her but she did not wish to speak.”

Bucky frowned. “How long has she been up there?”

“You’ve been gone for four hours,” she considered, “so nearly as long.”

“Damn it,” he muttered,” clenching his fist in frustration. “I’ll talk to her.”

“This must stop,” Wanda murmured, wringing her hands anxiously. “She cannot go on like this.”

“I know,” Bucky assured her, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I know.”

Wanda slipped from his grasp airily, and they made their way to the elevators. No one said a word, both too distracted by their thoughts.

 

You were tired. 

You had lost track of time but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Running was a good distraction. Bucky was off on a mission along with Natasha, and if you had stayed in your rooms you would have gone mad in the silence.

The third floor became your refuge when stress began to gnaw at you. It was hardly a surprise that the Avengers facility had a state-of-the-art gym, and you had frequented it previously on a regular basis. Lately though, you could be found here more nights than not. Especially on nights like tonight.

First was the stationary bike. Just a quick spin to get your heart rate up before moving on to the weights. You lingered at the weight stations for a long time, going through endless repetitions. Just before your muscles were about to give out, you finished with a few sets of the free weights.

You had needed a break after that, though you loathed to admit it. So you splayed yourself across the bench, taking a moment to just breathe and rest your aching body. Wanda said you were pushing yourself too hard. Steve sometimes frowned in that fatherly way only he could manage. You ignored them both.

When you were finally able to move again without your body threatening to seize up on you, you took a deep drink of water and then started running.

Speed wasn’t the objective, so you tried to keep a steady pace. You paid no attention to how long you had been on the track or how many laps you had done. By now, you had slowed to a crawl of a jog but you had to keep moving.

A tightening in your abdomen as you took a breath made you pause, and you took a second to right yourself. Hunched over, your hands on your knees, you took slow breaths as you worked the cramp away.

You jumped when a gentle hand met your back, a hitch in your breath. Bucky, still looking ridiculously handsome in his tailored suit and minus the gloves, was looking down at you in alarm.

“Are you okay?” he blurted out, worried at the sight of your red face, the sweat dripping from your clothing, and your trouble simply breathing.

“Fine,” you smiled weakly. “Just needed a quick break. You’re back early.” 

“It’s been hours,” he murmured, mouth downturned. “Come on, let’s call it a night.” While his tone was sweet and persuasive, he left no room for disagreement. His metal arm wound around your waist and he began leading you toward the elevator.

You huffed at his insistence, but happy to see him you obliged. 

He pulled you into a hug as the elevator took you to your floor, unbothered by the sticky sweat on your skin and clothes as it marred his pristine suit. When the doors opened, he steered your effortlessly to your shared rooms with a simple hand on your lower back.

“Why don’t you go take a shower?” he offered as he closed the door behind him, “Then we can relax for a bit.” 

You trudged into the bathroom, really beginning to feel all the aches and pains in your muscles as your endorphins faded. 

It was a fast shower, a quick washing of your hair and a slightly longer cleansing of your body. You didn’t linger though, you never liked to. There was too much vulnerability in being naked. There was no hiding the swell of your stomach or the imperfections on your thighs. When you looked down, you didn’t like what you saw, so you tried not to look at all. 

By the time you left the bathroom, shrouded in a roomy Captain America t-shirt and shorts, you had expected to see Bucky stretched out on the couch in sweatpants flipping through channels on the television. He had changed out of his suit and into his sweatpants and a t-shirt, but he wasn’t lounging comfortably on the couch.

“Come here,” he entreated, standing in the middle of your living room and reaching a hand out to you.

Curious, you did as he asked, taking his hand and tilting your head inquisitively. He held your hand tightly, bringing his left hand to the nape of your neck and massaging it lightly as he rested his forehead on yours. 

“What’s going on with you?” he wondered, eyes searching yours pleadingly.

“Nothing,” you replied in confusion. 

“You’ve been hiding away on the third floor,” he sighed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Wanda tells me you go there every time I’m gone. And tonight…you weren’t there when I came back.”

“I lost track of time,” you argued, feeling suddenly defensive. “I wanted to blow off some steam. I don’t know why you and Wanda are so bothered by it.”

“You could barely hold yourself up,” he grimaced. “You’re working yourself too hard. And I can’t understand why,” he admitted in frustration. “You’re a great agent. Steve hasn’t complained once about your performance. You train everyday as it is. Why isn’t that good enough?”

You let out an indelicate snort, leaning back and taking a step away from him.

“You really don’t get it,” you chuckled mirthlessly. Bucky’s jaw flexed.

“Then explain it to me,” he pleaded. 

“Tell me what was wrong about tonight,” you pressed. He furrowed his brows in confusion. “I’ll tell you what. We are a great team. We work well together, better than anyone else. But I wasn’t your partner tonight.”

“Steve thought you needed some time to rest,” Bucky guessed with a shrug.

“Steve knew I wouldn’t belong,” you confessed as you tried to ignore the break in your voice. “You were going to party in high society, filled with beautiful people. You needed to blend in. So he picked you and Nat. Because I would never fit in.”

“That’s not true,” he cried, moving forward to pull you to him, but you danced away.

“It is,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Natasha is flawless. She can slip on an evening gown and seduce any target in her path. And I can’t. If I wore satin, you would see every bump and dimple. If I tried to distract a target by flirting, I’d probably get the brush off,” Bucky looked shocked in dismayed, but you continued. “And if I showed up on your arm, everyone would know I’m a fraud.”

He wanted to argue every point you made, but Bucky was so stunned he remained silent.

“I just…I just want to be good enough,” you whispered, hiding your face in embarrassment. “I know I’ll never be as pretty as Nat or Wanda, I can’t change that. But maybe I can change in other ways. I’ve been working hard, you know? Cardio to help with weight loss. Weights to get more toned. It’s just—not happening fast enough.”

“You are good enough,” he stumbled over his words, not allowing you to slip from his grasp again as he held you close, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “You’ve always been good enough.”

“I’m fat,” you said bluntly, letting out a heavy sigh, and squirming slightly in his embrace. He released you reluctantly. “I always have been. I feel like an imposter on this team. But I can fight. And I’m smart. But what use is any of that if I get benched when it’s game time?” 

“Look at me,” he said softly. When you hesitated he repeated himself with more insistence. When your tired eyes met his, you were taken aback by the fire in them. “You’re beautiful.” He saw you open your mouth to object but kept going. “Honestly, doll. You could have knocked me over with a feather the first time I saw you.”

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t knock you over with a sledgehammer,” you huffed with a tiny laugh. He grinned at the sound. 

“If Steve ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or pretty enough, I’ll punch that jerk in the face,” he threatened with a teasing grin.

“You know he didn’t say anything like that,” you shook your head. “No punching necessary.”

“But you’ve got to pushing yourself like this,” he was serious again, staring at you beseechingly. “You can’t keep this up. You’re killing yourself. And I can’t—you can’t leave me.” 

You weren’t the only one feeling vulnerable; you could see it in the curve of his shoulders and the bow of his head. This time you were the one to reach out, slipping your arms around his waist and holding him tightly. Bucky returned your embrace desperately. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and he let out a shaky but grateful breath. 

“And if you ever feel like you’re not good enough, you have to tell me,” he implored, looking longingly into your eyes. “So I can show you how wrong you are.”

“You could show me now?” you bit your lip anxiously, and he smiled widely. 

His thumb traced your bottom lip, teasing you and making you smile. His lips met yours with aching softness, as he poured every ounce of love he felt into that kiss. He left you breathless when he finally pulled away. 

“I could use another demonstration,” you mumbled and Bucky laughed huskily. He was more than happy to oblige.


	12. Relief in Waking (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 1/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Relief in Waking
> 
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Summary: Last story in the trilogy following Right Here Waiting and I Forget Myself. 
> 
> Your memories of HYDRA are giving you nightmares and you’re left feeling unsure about what is real and what is not.

Part One:

 

The Avengers facility was rarely quiet, considering how many people lived and worked there. But in the middle of the night, barring any emergencies, there were a few desolate spots to be found where you could wander about and still maintain your privacy.

It took a couple of months before you were willing to walk about the facility on your own. At first Sam escorted you around, then sometimes Steve, Tony, or Pepper. Most of the time your preferred the illusion of safety that your room offered. 

The rest of the team treated you kindly, but gave you the distance you seemed to prefer. Wanda gave you a wide berth. At first, you were a little offended by her obvious avoidance of you, but after Steve explained her powers, you understood her reasons for keeping away. She was the only other person privy to the flashes of memories in your head, to the nightmares that plagued your sleep, and it was hard for her to cope.

It was hard for you to cope too. 

Your regular therapy sessions with Sam began to dwindle. He was busy and frankly you were disinterested. You had a hard time putting into words the things you saw in your head. He was always sympathetic and ready to lend an ear, but it wasn’t helping. 

Wanda offered once, nervously, to go into your mind and try to put the pieces back together the best she could. But you said no. From what little you did remember, you knew the full truth would only be the fuel for more nightmares. She seemed relieved when you turned her down.

So the nightmares continued and sleep was something you tended to avoid. Some days you would stay awake as long as possible, until your body was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. Only then would you climb into your bed and allow your eyes to close. You didn’t dream then. 

Bruce was starting to worry. He would glance at the bags under your eyes and frown. You knew he wanted to intervene, but he wasn’t sure how to help.

You weren’t sure he could help.

It was just past three in the morning when you slipped out of your room, bored of the Netflix marathon you’d been having. The kitchen was dark, but you didn’t mind. You turned on a small lamp in the corner to give you just enough light as you went about making coffee. 

Normal people make tea when they can’t sleep. You make coffee so you won’t sleep.

Ten minutes passed as you brewed a cup and sat at the kitchen island, mindless sipping and staring into the darkened hall. A brief flash of movement caught your eye and you could make out the silhouette of someone walking from the hallway toward the kitchen. 

Bucky’s eyes met yours as he stepped into the dimly lit room, his expression studiously blank.

“Can’t sleep?” he murmured, grabbing a muffin from a basket that Pepper had left on the counter the previous morning and taking a seat next to you.

“Nightmares,” you shrugged. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I just…can’t,” he mumbled. He was lying, that was obvious, but you didn’t press him. 

The two of you never talked much. He kept his distance, but you noticed he did that with most people, Steve being the main exception. You expected you would spend the next few minutes in companionable silence. You were wrong.

“The nightmares,” he said softly, tilting his head slightly in your direction, “what are they like?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you admitted. 

“Sam says you aren’t talking to him about it,” Bucky frowned. “But you need to talk about it to someone. I just—I figured you could talk to me. I know what it’s like. The memory loss, I mean.”

“That’s just it,” you confessed, meeting his concerned gaze with watery eyes. “I’m afraid they aren’t just nightmares. I’m afraid they’re memories. And if they are, I’d rather forget.”

“If you ignore them, they’ll never go away,” he confided. “I tried that. And the rest of your tricks: the coffee, staying awake all day and night. It doesn’t get better. But once I started accepting what happened, I was able to start to move on.”

“I keep seeing this man,” you whispered, staring at your now cold cup of coffee. “His face changes, sometimes it is handsome, other times it’s scarred and burnt. But I know it’s him. He has this smile—it makes me sick.”

Bucky turned in his seat, focusing on you intently as you finally started to open up.

“I feel like I’m trapped,” you shuddered, “and he’s my keeper. He’s always there, pushing, yelling, screaming, and then he gets quiet. The quiet is the worst. After the quiet comes the pain.”

Bucky swallowed anxiously, but he forced himself to remain silent. 

“Sometimes he leaves,” you sighed, “he leaves me there alone, to rot, and I feel okay with that. With the idea that it will be the end. But he always comes back. And it starts all over again.”

Your voice faded away and Bucky watched you hunch over in your chair, curling up as if to protect yourself from the world.

“Did Tony tell you much about who you were, why they took you?” he wondered out loud. 

“I was an engineer,” you recalled, “Tony told me all about that. He never says much about the kidnapping. But I get flashes of working in an old room, sitting by a computer and a table full of tools.” You paused and Bucky couldn’t stop his heart from racing.

“There were these gears and bolts, but I’ve never seen anything like them since,” you remembered with a faraway look. “And there were men with guns. Always men with guns.”

“That’s all you can remember?” he prodded, and you turned to him in disappointment.

“Isn’t that enough?” you muttered. “The memories I do have keep me up at night. I don’t want more.”

“No, of course,” he shook his head, trying to placate you. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” you interrupted him, apologetic. “I think that maybe we’re different. You wanted to remember, the good and the bad. But all I see is bad. And I’m not sure I can handle much more.”

Bucky was silent for a long time, wrestling with your admission. He understood it, but it was painful to hear. He wanted, more than anything, for you to remember him. But what relief would that really bring you? All you would remember is a man, tortured like you were, that you helped escape. And in return he left you behind to suffer at the hands of your captors. 

Maybe it was better that you didn’t remember him. You would probably hate him if you did.

“When my nightmares were at their worst,” he finally said, “Steve would sit with me. He’d take watch as I went back to sleep, and wake me if they started again. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it helped.”

You tilted your head curiously.

“I could sit with you,” Bucky offered, shy and a little nervous. “Wake you up if things get bad.”

“But when would you sleep?” you bit your lip in concern. He smothered a tiny smile.

“I’m a super soldier,” he smirked, “I don’t need sleep.” You rolled your eyes in amusement. “Don’t worry,” he assured you, “Steve’s a mother hen. He’ll make sure I get some time to sleep.”

“If you’re sure,” you reluctantly agreed, and Bucky smiled tightly. 

“Come on,” he hopped off the stool and extended his hand. You slipped your hand in his and let him lead you away from the kitchen, switching off the lamp as he walked past it. 

He opened the door to your room, letting you go in first before following behind and closing the door. You climbed back into bed, pulling up the sheets and blankets until they surrounded you like a cocoon. 

Bucky took a seat on the couch a few feet away, putting his feet up and resting his head on a couch pillow as he got comfortable. 

“Thank you,” he heard you murmur from amongst your blankets, and he grinned ruefully.

“Any time, doll,” he replied, and he meant every word. Any time. He wasn’t going anywhere.


	13. Relief in Waking (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 2/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Relief in Waking
> 
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Summary: Last story in the “Right Here Waiting” Series. Your memories of HYDRA are giving you nightmares and you’re left feeling unsure about what is real and what is not.

Part Two:

 

It had been three weeks since Bucky had taken to standing guard while you slept. He made sure to wake you whenever a nightmare began to take hold of you, shaking you from slumber and staying with you as you fell back into a fitful sleep.

You knew he hadn’t been sleeping well. Most nights he spent watching over you, days were spent training and on missions, and while he caught a catnap here and there, he never seemed to manage sound sleep.

He had left on a mission with Steve and Sam two days ago. You spent those two days debating on how to handle the situation.

Things couldn’t continue like this much longer. It was too dangerous for Bucky. He needed to be alert and awake on missions, and you didn’t want to be the cause of any injuries he might sustain because he was so tired all the time.

As it was, while his presence soothed you, the nightmares didn’t stop. They didn’t even ease up. And they weren’t going to stop until you finally allowed yourself to face them. It was time you actually did something.

Your knock on Wanda’s door was hesitant, but she still managed to hear it and open the door, greeting you with a nervous smile.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly, and she returned your hello unsurely. “Before…you offered to help me, with my memories,” you reminded her. Wanda tilted her head to the side curiously. “I can’t sleep. I can’t get the images out of my head. And until I can make sense of them, I don’t think that will stop.”

She could see how difficult it was for you to admit that, and she opened her door wider, signaling you to come inside. You followed her to the couch and you sat next to each other, turned to face one another. 

“I do not envy the things you’ve seen,” Wanda sighed. “But my brother and I were captive once. I understand some of your pain.”

“Then will you help me remember?” you whispered, both hopeful and fearful.

“If that is what you want,” she agreed, studying you carefully. “But you must realize, you make not like what you see. Or who you see.”

That sounded ominous, but you felt like you had no choice. You couldn’t go on like this. “I understand. Please, help me.”

Wanda looked solemn, but she nodded and told you to close your eyes. With effortless grace, she lifted her hands and swirled them about slowly, as if she was drawing designs on the surface of water. 

Red began to fill your senses, and then the visions came.

**

You were covered in blood spatter that was slowly seeping through your clothes.

The man, his face still intact, and his men found you after the screams and gunshots had died down. He stepped into the vault, taking note of the three dead guards before turning his gaze to you. Tilting your head up, allowing yourself to look at the carnage for the first time, you cringed. 

Sneering, he grabbed you by the arm, hoisting you up and checking you over for injuries. When it became clear that the blood covering you was not your own, he shoved you towards one of his men and ordered him to lock you up in your room.

**

There was pain. You were lying on the floor, covered in your own blood and filth. He hovered over you, his face marred by scars.

“You see death is too easy. You cost us the Asset. You helped lead to HYDRA’s destruction. You’re responsible for this thing,” he said derisively, “that I’ve become. And I am going to see that you pay.”

**

The Asset. Those words kept repeating in your mind. What was the Asset?

**

There was a man, strapped to a chair. His head was bowed, but light hit his arm and you saw it gleam.

The metal restraints bound him, and the headpiece was brought down and attached by a doctor. Another man in a lab coat was typing furiously into a computer. You stared helplessly at him, but you saw no anger in his eyes. Instead, his gaze only held sadness.

The process didn’t take long, but you would never get the sound of his screams out of your head. 

When they were done, he was a clean slate. There was no trace of the life in him. He just stared ahead mutely. 

**

He moved like lightening, striking the unsuspecting guards before they could blink. You threw yourself to the floor as bullets ricocheted off the walls. The shooting didn’t last long. The guards were dead and he was headed for the halls.

You heard him pause at the door, even as rapid footsteps approached, but you never looked up at him.

Seconds later he was gone, and more rounds of gunfire were exchanged. 

**

The blood and bodies were long gone, but that dreadful chair and all its components remained. 

“Made sure they kept it, just for you,” the man smirked as you were tossed into the chair. The metal restraints settled around your arms and wrists before you could muster up a fight. The headpiece was soon attached. They didn’t bother with the mouth guard. 

“You took everything from me,” he grunted, pulling up a stool to watch. “Now I’m going to take everything from you. Your life, Bucky Barnes, your name, all of it will be gone. You’ll be left alone in the world, without a clue who you are. No one will be able to help you. And if you ask me, that’s a hell of a lot worse that a bullet to the head.”

Turning his attention to the man behind the computer, he gave the order. “Wipe her,” he then looked to his men, “Then dump the bitch.”

**

Returning to consciousness was a surreal feeling.

The visions faded and you could begin to make out Wanda’s form next to you, but everything felt wrong. It was all off somehow. Your body seemed to realize where you were, but your mind was still distracted by what you saw.

It felt like your head was spinning as your brain tried to play catch up with what it saw. The man, the equipment, the blood and pain, those were all familiar. While unpleasant to watch, you had known that was coming.

But you hadn’t been prepared for Bucky Barnes.

He was there, strapped into the same chair you were thrown into before everything disappeared. He was the Asset. 

You still didn’t understand anything. You didn’t know why you had been there in the first place. But one thing stood out clearly. Bucky escaped. You had helped him. Then he vanished and your pain began.

Your memories, everything you were or ever had been, stolen from you and why? Because you tried to help Bucky Barnes. 

What did he think of you? He saw you everyday for months now and never said a word. Tony, Steve, Sam…they had to have known. Were you so pitiful that they couldn’t bear to tell you the truth? Did they think you didn’t deserve their honesty? 

And Sam, did he just take you in to assuage Bucky’s guilt? Not to mention Tony’s, he was full of guilt as well, even though he tried his best not to show it. They felt bad about what happened to you, about any part they played in it. Did Bucky sit vigil with you at night to make himself feel better? You wondered if those same memories plagued his sleep too. 

You felt a tentative hand on your shoulder, and your head turned automatically. Wanda’s face came into focus and she looked concerned.

“What did you see?” she asked gently. You could tell from the wariness in her eyes and her tense expression that she already knew the answer. 

“I saw the man who tortured me,” you rasped, “And I saw Bucky.”


	14. Smooth Criminal (Jake Jensen x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something a little different...
> 
> Title: Smooth Criminal
> 
> Fandom/Pairing: The Losers/Jake Jensen x Reader
> 
> Summary: Rule one: you’re not supposed to flirt with your contact. Jensen didn’t get the memo. Well, he did. But then he shredded it. Because it was stupid.

Jensen surveyed the crowded plaza; spotting the restaurant Clay informed him was the meeting point and taking a seat on the patio. He waved down a waitress to order a quick drink, since the summer sun was blazing hot above, and fiddled with his earpiece. 

“Tell me again why this meeting had to be public?” he grumbled, eyes darting to and fro. “And why I had to be the one doing said meeting?”

“She’s taking a risk even talking to us,” Clay’s voice came over the radio in a bored fashion. “A public place is less suspicious. If Max found out she was sneaking off to abandoned warehouses, he might get a little trigger happy.”

“That still didn’t answer my other question,” he pouted. 

“Pooch is still laid up and Cougar’s specialty is shooting people,” Clay grunted. “So you won by default.”

“Fine,” he sighed, squinting as he tried to find his target. “But I’m just letting you know, my acting skills are a little rusty. I mean—I’m good, I’m always good. I could use some polish, is all. The last time I had to perform, I got a little…distracted and—”

“Jensen, shut up,” Clay groaned. “She’s here, at your ten o’clock.”

Perking up, Jensen sat up straighter, his eyes widening as he finally spotted you. He’d never seen a simple sundress look so good. He unconsciously found himself hypnotized by the sway of your hips as you walked. 

Weaving through the busy patio, you politely smiled at the waiter approaching you and murmured something while pointing towards his table. The waiter nodded in understanding and moved on. Jensen smirked a little. 

You were with him. Suck it, waiter.

“Sorry I’m late,” you offered in greeting as you pulled up a chair. You both waited in silence as a waitress dropped off his drink and told you she’d give you a minute. “I was feeling a little paranoid, so I took a few precautions on the way here. To make sure I wasn’t followed,” you admitted with slight embarrassment. A spy you were not.

“Uh, I assure you, ma’am,” he replied, trying to fake the confidence he didn’t feel and grinning, “you’re in safe hands with me.”

Clay snorted.

“I’m Jensen, by the way,” he offered you a hand to shake. “Jake, that is. Jake Jensen. Heh, I sound like James Bond. Jensen. Jake Jensen. Actually it’s Captain Jake Jensen. But no standing on ceremonies, right? So you can call me Jensen. Or Jake, if you’d like…Whatever.”

There was a long, awkward pause that left him squirming. Clay was trying to muffle his laughter. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled with a shake of your head, “I was curious if there was more to your introduction.” You could see a hint of a blush on his cheeks and you bowed your head demurely. 

“Well, Captain Jake Jensen,” you grinned, “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am afraid I can’t stay very long. I’m on my lunch break and my boss will know something is up if I’m tardy.”

Jensen nodded in understanding, a little too fervently. Your hand slipped into your purse and you palmed the flash drive. Pulling his hand to yours, you slipped it into his grip as you made to play with his fingers and act coy. He seemed to take the hint, palming the device easily. But he didn’t pull away.

Instead he brought up his other hand, leaving you stretched slightly across the table sitting hand in hand like smitten teenagers. You smothered a grin as he ran his thumb across your knuckles.

“Why do I feel like you’re enjoying this?” you shook your head in amusement.

“Because you are a very perceptive woman,” he grinned widely.

“Damn it Jensen, you’re not feeling up our contact, are you?” Clay interrupted the moment and Jensen dropped your hands and turned his head to mutter into his microphone. 

“God no, Clay,” he said in a harsh whisper, “Give me a little credit here. I’m being charming,” he added, turning back to you with a wide, crooked smile. 

“Is that possible?” Clay wondered in disbelief, and Jensen looked away once more, his mouth pursed.

“I’m a delight!” he mumbled, before shifting his attention back to you, adjusting his glasses and trying to strike a come hither pose.

“He really is,” you assured him, leaning forward to make sure whoever was in his ear heard you clearly.

“Ha! Hear that,” he added smugly. 

“Well sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Wonderful,” Clay said bemusedly, “but your girl is on a time crunch. So stop making kissy faces and get a move on. You need to start decrypting that drive as soon as possible.”

“Fine,” Jensen muttered, pulling a face. You were still eyeing him with amusement and he gave you a lopsided grin. “I’m supposed to let you get back to work so I can do some work of my own.”

“It is about time for me to leave,” you confessed after glancing at your watch. You stood, and he followed suit, tugging at his t-shirt nervously. “It was a pleasure, Jake. You made my first outing as a spy—memorable.”

“You could just give me your number,” he suggested, ignoring Clay’s admonishments for hitting on an informant. “We could make more memories.”

“You’re a hacker, right?” you teased, leaning forward and placing a light kiss on his cheek. “Find it yourself.” 

And with that, you bid him goodbye with an airy smile. His gaze followed you as you left the restaurant until he couldn’t see you any longer.

“I think I’m in love,” Jensen declared.

“That’s just great, really,” Clay said drolly. “Did you get the drive?” 

“Of course!” he returned, a little offended as he double-checked his pockets, relieved when he did in fact feel the flash drive. “I’m not an amateur.” 

“No,” Clay agreed, “You just think with the wrong head sometimes.”

“Hey! At least I didn’t go sleeping with the enemy,” he reminded his commander as he began to make his way back to his car. “How is Aisha, by the way?”

“She’s sitting right next to me,” Clay smirked. “So you might want to think twice about what you say. She’s already shot you once.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jensen groaned.

“I was playing nice,” Aisha’s voice came over the radio. “It was just your shoulder. I could have aimed lower.”

“No shooting my dick!” he exclaimed, before noticing that there was in fact a crowd of people nearby who all stopped what they were doing to ogle the crazy man. He waved awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders before picking up his pace and practically racing to his car.

“Just get back to base,” Clay advised, having had enough of taunting Jensen. “You’ve got work to do.”

“On my way,” Jensen replied, starting up the engine. He was more than ready to get started.

After all, he had data to decrypt and a date to arrange.


	15. Relief in Waking (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 3/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Relief in Waking  
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader  
> Summary: Last story in the “Right Here Waiting” Series. Your memories of HYDRA are giving you nightmares and you’re left feeling unsure about what is real and what is not.

Part Three:

 

The boys were tired when they returned from their mission. After the quickest debrief they could manage, the trio went their separate ways. Steve hit the showers. Sam was in desperate need of a nap. And Bucky went looking for you.

He felt bad that he had to leave you alone for the past few days. Not that you needed him to hold your hand, but he knew his company at night brought some amount of relief to you when the nightmares started. He was concerned that you might have slipped back into your old ways of coping, which usually meant no sleep and lots of coffee.

He crossed paths with Wanda, who met his eyes for a second before she abruptly looked down and sped up her gait. That made him frown. Wanda was one of the few people that never tried to avoid him.

Something must have happened. 

The thought made him quicken his pace. In moments he was at your door, knocking gently and waiting for your response.

It never came. 

Bucky tried knocking again, this time louder in case you didn’t hear him before. But there was no shout of hello, no one opening the door for him with a welcoming smile. Concerned, he twisted the knob and was relieved when he discovered the door was unlocked. 

He was surprised to find you sitting on your couch, absently staring at the television and pointedly ignoring him.

“Hey,” Bucky said awkwardly, “uh, we just got back. I wanted to see how you were doing…”

You tilted your head, looking at him blankly.

“You don’t need to check up on me,” you mumbled, curling your blanket around yourself protectively. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself. I did it for years without any of you.”

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he stammered in confusion. “Did something happen while I was gone? Did Tony say something? I can talk to him.”

“Tony didn’t say anything,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “No one said anything. That’s the problem.”

“I don’t understand,” he confessed, taking a seat on the edge of the couch and making sure to give you a wide berth.

“You’re all liars,” you spat. “Sam, Tony, Steve, you. You lie about everything.”

“I didn’t—” he tried to defend himself, but he was cut short.

“You did. All of you,” you interrupted him. “I know everything. About HYDRA, about my kidnapping, about you.”

“How?” Bucky wondered, voice weak. 

“Wanda,” you admitted, jutting your chin up defiantly. “She warned me I might not like what I saw, but I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect to find out that practically everyone in this building knew what happened to me and no one wanted to admit it.”

There was a long moment of silence where Bucky digested everything and you turned your attention back to the television. You had no idea what show was on, but it provided a necessary distraction.

Bucky was tense and unsure how to proceed. At least this explained Wanda’s avoidance of him. She was feeling guilty. That or she feared his reaction once he found out what she had done. 

Was her crime that heinous though? She merely gave you back the memories you had been so cruelly denied. Wanda had helped him in a similar manner, and while some of the memories he had recovered were painful to revisit, he felt more whole after getting them back. He could hardly blame you for wanting the same sense of completeness, or Wanda for providing it.

But it left him and the rest of the team in a terrible position. 

You weren’t wrong, they had lied to you. Tony lied about the events surrounding your kidnapping. He had acquired the footage from street cameras. The angle hadn’t been great, but the confrontation that left you unconscious was all there in black and white. 

Steve and Sam weren’t as complicit, but their actions were damning nonetheless. They were privy to every piece of evidence Tony had found on your case. They knew about your shared time in HYDRA captivity. And they said nothing. 

The most guilt lay with Bucky. He had been there. He had cherished those times when you would sit with him in the vault and talk to him like he was a normal person. He held on to that connection when times were tough.

And he had denied you the ability to do the same.

“Why?” Bucky’s head jerked up at the sound of your raspy voice.

“The doctors thought that you would never be able to recover your memories,” he murmured. “They were worried the damage was too great. Sam didn’t—we didn’t want to burden you.”

“How was that your choice to make?” you cried, meeting his woeful gaze with wide eyes. 

“I was worried about you,” he tried to explain. “And I—I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Your face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

“You were taken by HYDRA because of me. I attacked the last engineer that worked on my arm,” Bucky said brokenly. “It was my fault. And after—after everything you did for me, I left you there. I knew what they’d do to you. I thought they would kill you. And I still left you behind.”

You swallowed, your throat feeling tight, as you tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes. Bucky was staring shamefully at the floor and you had no idea what to say to him.

Feeling overwhelmed, you threw off your blanket, muttering a quiet “I need some air,” before slipping from your room.

You arrived at the balcony without any clue as to how you got there. The sun had set long ago and the night sky was alight with stars. That was one of your favorite things about the Avengers facility. The property was remote, so far from the light pollution you were used to in the city. You never got to do much stargazing in New York. 

That little hint of a memory, the tiny detail about your life before HYDRA, made your chest ache. You thought you would feel something after getting your memory back, maybe happiness or a sense of completeness. But instead you felt hollow.

What did it matter who you were before? You couldn’t be that person again. You didn’t know how. 

You sat outside for a long while, taking deep, slow breaths and letting yourself get lost in the night sky. You heard the soft sound of someone approaching, but paid it no mind.

“Thought you might be cold,” Sam broke the silence and you looked up at him in mild curiosity. He held out one of his jackets, offering it you. After a second’s hesitation, you slipped your arms into the sleeves and pulled it tightly around yourself.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk,” you mumbled. Sam wasn’t put off, instead he leaned against the railing beside you casually. 

“When you do feel like talking,” he suggested, “you should probably go talk to the Tin Man. He’s a bit of wreck.”

“Really, Sam? The Tin Man?” you said with a roll of your eyes. “You know I hate it when you call him that.”

“He calls me Pigeon, and I’ve never heard you say boo about that,” he reminded you with a smirk. You wanted to smile, but the movement felt awkward. “Look, you don’t have to say a thing, but let me just get this out.”

You nodded reluctantly.

“We should have been honest with you,” he sighed pensively. “Believe or not, we were trying to protect you. Apparently we suck at that. But it was never malicious. I get it if you want to be pissed at me, Tony, and Steve. But maybe take it easy on Bucky.”

“You called him by his name,” you ducked your head with a tiny smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

“I almost threw up, I just hid it well,” he chuckled. “Seriously though, kid. His head is just as messed up as yours. More so even. When Tony finally tracked you down, I thought he’d explode. He was ready to pack up and ship out immediately. But he’s pretty intense, so I talked Steve into convincing Bucky that it was better that I find you. What I lack in metal appendages I make up for in charm.”

You shifted, turning to face Sam, still hugging his jacket to yourself like a lifeline.

“He’s never forgiven himself, you know. For leaving you behind.” Sam shook his head in chagrin. “Boy has a martyr complex like you wouldn’t believe.” 

“I don’t hate him,” you divulged, finally admitting that to yourself. “I remember, you know. I told him to run. To forget about me. I don’t blame him for leaving.”

“It won’t make the guilt disappear, not completely, but I think it would mean a lot to him if he heard that from you,” Sam shrugged. “He might not forgive himself, but knowing you forgive him? That could be a step in the right direction. For both of you.”

You stood stalk still, taking in his words. Sam gave you a hopeful half smile, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder before leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

It was another half an hour before you went back inside. The halls were empty and quiet, with most of the team in bed or out for a drink. 

You hesitated when you reached Bucky’s door, before taking a daring step and turning the knob. But his room was empty.

Frowning, you closed his door, unsure of where to find him. You turned a corner, nearing your own room as you headed toward the shared living area. You paused outside your room. 

The door was still open from when you left, and in the shadows you could make out Bucky’s hunched form still seated on the edge of your sofa. 

Your reappearance took him by surprise as you sat beside him, not leaving that daunting space between you again. Bucky licked his lips nervously, unable to maintain eye contact and dropping his gaze to his hands.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you admitted faintly. He looked up at you in question. “Any of it. HYDRA took me. Brock Rumlow tortured me. This is on them.”

“I went back,” he murmured. “To the vault. After Steve found me and I was more myself. I went back. But you were gone.”

“I told you to run,” you reminded him, placing a tentative hand on his arm and feeling his muscles tense beneath it. “I told you not to come back. And I meant it. It was too dangerous for you.”

Bucky shook his head, tormented by memories and guilt. You let your hand slide down his arm to grasp his hand tightly, drawing his attention back to you.

“I don’t blame you for leaving,” you said with some force. “But if you need my forgiveness, you have it.” Bucky was meeting your gaze with an unfathomable stare. “I forgive you, Bucky Barnes.”

He appeared shaken. You both were in dire need for comfort so you found yourself shifting on the couch and tugging him into a gently embrace. You were doing the most hugging, but as your face buried into the crook of his neck, you felt his arms tighten around you.

You stayed like that for a while, in a comfortable silence. You couldn’t smother a yawn and Bucky pulled away slightly, studying your face. He could undoubtedly see the dark circles around your eyes that betrayed you.

“You need to sleep,” he said in a hushed sigh. 

“So do you,” you acknowledged with a solemn nod. You both rose from the couch, and reluctantly Bucky walked towards the door.

When his hand reached the knob, you took a step forward. “You could stay,” you called out, causing him to pause. “The—the nightmares are better when you’re with me,” you admitted shyly. “And maybe I can help with yours?”

You felt your heart sink when he took another step forward, still clinging to the doorknob, but it beat again when he simply closed the door and turned back to you.

He walked to you cautiously, almost timid. Reaching out, he brushed a lock of hair out of your eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I know before I wanted you to leave,” you whispered, “but now I would really like you to stay.” 

You must have said the right thing, because his mouth turned up into a genuine smile and he offered you his hand to lead you to bed. After you each changed into your nightclothes, you both climbed into bed.

Normally you both kept to your separate sides of the bed. But tonight, after Bucky settled on his back, you tucked yourself into his side. You worried that you were being too forward, but his arm moved to cradle you and you were able to relax. Your eyes fell closed as you concentrated on the soft sound of his breathing.

Without secrets and lies between you, maybe the two of you would finally be able to heal. Together.


	16. Maybe Not (Steve Rogers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Maybe Not
> 
> Pairing: Steve x Reader
> 
> Summary: You’ve been in love with Steve Rogers for years, but in typical fashion, he remains clueless.
> 
> Takes place during Civil War.

The car was filled with an awkward silence. Steve paced anxiously in front of it; waiting for Sharon Carter to arrive and praying this went off without a hitch. Sam sat in the front passenger seat, looking bored, but you knew that he was keenly aware of everything going on around him.

Bucky was stuffed into the backseat with you, visibly uncomfortable but trying his best not to complain. Steve really couldn’t have picked a smaller car if he tried. 

Shifting in his seat, Bucky leaned forward slightly, drawing Sam’s attention. “Can you move your seat up?” His tone was flat, but polite nonetheless.

Sam’s blunt, “No,” was anything but. 

Smothering a smile, you scooted over a little, giving Bucky a bit more room. He bowed his head in appreciation and tried to find a comfortable position.

Your attention was drawn to Steve, who was relying on you to keep an eye out for trouble. He was so caught up in his own thoughts and worries. You and Sam didn’t mind picking up the slack, and Bucky didn’t have to be asked twice. He didn’t even have to be asked once, to be honest. Bucky knew instinctually when his best friend needed him.

Sam glanced in the rear view mirror, and upon seeing your intent gaze focused on Steve, he grinned.

“When are you gonna tell him?” he smirked, and both you and Bucky looked at him in confusion.

“Tell him what?” you wondered, meeting Sam’s eyes in the mirror.

“That your head over heels in crazy, stupid, love with your Captain,” he teased. You completely ignored Bucky’s raised eyebrow. 

“I’m not crazy, stupid, in love with my Captain,” you retorted with a disapproving look. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a car pull up, and all talk ceased. You all relaxed once you spotted Sharon Carter climbing out of the driver’s seat.

“He’s not my Captain,” you continued with a roll of your eyes. “Well, I mean, technically he is my Captain. Or he was when SHIELD was still around. But—you know what I mean,” you stammered as Sam’s grin only widened. “I’m just saying. I’m not in love with Steve Rogers.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “and this one doesn’t carry an oil can around for when his arm gets rusty,” he snorted with a gesture towards Bucky. Bucky returned with a one-fingered gesture of his own.

“Fine,” you sighed. “So I may…like Steve.” Bucky turned to look at you more curiously and you blushed at his scrutiny. 

“Admitting it is the first step,” Sam mocked. “Why won’t you say anything to him? You know Captain Clueless over there has no game.”

Your gaze drifted back to Steve, who was in deep conversation with Sharon. Sam was right, Cap had no idea what to say or do around women. But telling him how you felt about him was a nerve-wracking prospect. What if he gave you that polite but tense smile and told you that he was flattered but only saw you as a friend? How would you face him after that?

“Romances between team members are risky,” you shrugged. “Look at what happened with Bruce and Nat, Tony and Pepper. I don’t want to make things weird.”

Sam frowned. “If I’ve learned anything since meeting Cap, it’s that you have to take chances. Tomorrow is no guarantee.” Bucky’s expression darkened in agreement.

You tried to think of a counterargument, another reason why you should just keep your mouth shut and embrace the status quo, but nothing came to you. Staring at Steve, you could see all the reasons you had come to feel for him. He was brave and strong. He was the most caring person you had ever met. He was loyal and, much to Tony’s annoyance was practically perfect in every way. 

“I…” you bit your lip nervously, “Maybe. After things settle down. I’ll tell him then,” you decided, and Sam smiled warmly.

Things were in too much upheaval at the moment. Their main concern was clearing Bucky’s name and stopping Zemo. Besides, Peggy had only died days before. You could hardly confess your feelings while he mourned for his first love. But soon, when this mess was in the past, you would tell him how you felt.

That you loved him, and maybe, just maybe, he’d say that he loved you too. 

You ducked your head shyly, self-conscious from the almost cheesy smiles across both men’s faces at your admission.

Turning back to the issue at hand, you cleared your throat and signaled for everyone to focus on Steve once more. It appeared that his discussion was almost finished. Inside the trunk of Sharon’s car sat his shield, Sam’s wings, and any number of weapons that had been in possession of you and Bucky at the time of your arrest. 

Steve looked back at the three of you in the car, a little unsure, and you wondered what he was hesitant about. But a second later the answer came.

Impulsively, Steve took a step towards Sharon, pulling her into a long kiss.

You felt your chest seize up. You knew that Steve and Sharon had flirted before, but she had left for Germany not long after the fall of SHIELD and you didn’t think they had spoken since. But Steve must have harbored some feelings for her, to kiss her like that.

You spent day in and day out with him, and he apparently pined for a woman a world away that he barely knew. Any sense of confidence you had begun to feel evaporated in that instant.

What a fool you’d been.

Sam and Bucky were taken by surprise. When Steve finally pulled away, looking towards your car with an embarrassed but almost proud look on his face, the boys could only respond with strained smiles. Steve flushed, shuffling his feet, and giving Sharon a goofy smile.

The charged silence in the car spoke volumes.

“I changed my mind,” you said hoarsely, breaking the deafening quiet. 

Sam wanted to protest, to assure you that if you made your feelings known that maybe Steve would realize that Sharon Carter was just a pipe dream, that what he really wanted was right in front of him. But now wasn’t the time, not with the heartbroken expression on your face and Steve oblivious to it all.

With an understanding glance, Sam nodded. “Forget I said anything.”

When Steve climbed back into the driver’s seat, he never noticed the tension radiating from his teammates; he was too busy grinning ear to ear.


	17. I Deceived Myself (Natasha Romanoff/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: I Deceived Myself
> 
> Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Reader
> 
> Summary: Your lies have finally caught up to you.

Your movements were frantic, grabbing everything you could and throwing it into a backpack on top of your bed. You knew you had to move fast. Your superior had given you a heads up only moments before the attack on the Triskelion and time was of the essence.

In the back of your closet, behind the attic access panel, was your go bag. It had all your basic supplies: clothes, money, IDs and passports. Everything you would need to get out of the country and as far away from this mess as fast as possible. Your backpack held your laptop, a few precious flash drives and files. Your eyes fell to the 3x5 photo lying on the table beside. With deft hands you snagged it, folding it in half and slipping it in your coat pocket.

You probably should have left it in its usual place on your nightstand. Looking at it would only cause you pain from now on. You had been so happy, you both had. When you saw the picture Clint had snuck of the two of you curled up on the sofa in Tony’s tower, you asked him for a copy. You never had it framed. Nat always said that personal items could be used against you if they ever fell into the wrong hands.

But what happens when the wrong hands happen to be your own?

You zipped your pack and threw it over your shoulder, grabbing your go bag and rushing into the living room.

She was waiting for you. 

Nat’s gun was drawn with expert aim, but her finger still hovered next to the trigger. 

You paused, eyes wide, at a loss for words. Her face was hard, studiously emotionless, and you envied the ease of wearing that façade. She always had been a better liar than you.

“And here I thought I was the most talented double agent,” she said in a raspy murmur, bemused. 

“You didn’t want to see it,” you whispered, slowing placing your bag on the floor and letting your pack drop to join it.

“How long?” Nat demanded.

“Forever,” you revealed, licking your lips nervously. “It’s all I remember.”

“Your mission?” she inquired sharply.

“If you read my files then you already know—” 

“Tell me,” she interrupted you smoothly. She always was the picture of grace under pressure.

“To get close to the team, earn their trust, and report any Intel to my commander,” you admitted. People liked to believe there was freedom in the truth. But the truth can be just as oppressive as any lie.

“Rumlow?” Natasha spat.

“Rumlow,” you confirmed. “You and I—we weren’t—”

“We weren’t anything,” she stopped you. You wanted to take a pleading step forward, but even the tiny sway of your body in preparation made Nat tense and tighten her grip on her gun.

“If anyone should understand, it’s you,” you argued. “You know what it’s like to grow up like that, with no control over your life.” Years of pent up frustration built in your chest and you felt like were going to explode. “We’ve both done horrible things. But we aren’t monsters. I’m not a monster.”

“I’ve made mistakes,” she agreed with a tilt of her head, “too many. But we aren’t the same. I had someone who believed in me, who took a chance on me, and I made a different call. You had someone who believed in you, and you did nothing.”

You couldn’t deny her accusation, it was true. Nat had always been brave. And you had always been scared. Scared of Rumlow and Pierce, of the Winter Soldier, of HYDRA. It felt like an endless list. But if anyone could have saved you, it was Natasha Romanoff. But you were terrified.

You loved her, but you didn’t trust her. Trust never came easy for spies. So time went on and the lie only grew and festered. It was time to reap what you had sewn.

“How does this go?” you wondered, dropping your hands slowly to your side.

“I bring you in,” Nat said coolly, “you’ll be interrogated. There may be a trial, depending if the government feels like making an example out of you. You’ve never killed anyone, so you may not be executed. Then again, the penalty for treason is death.”

You never thought, in your wildest dreams, that Natasha would be discussing your possible demise so dispassionately. 

Your fate was in her hands. The earlier frustration you felt simmered and you found yourself feeling oddly numb. You couldn’t handle prison. You had spent too many years in HYDRA’s care. The pain, the torture, the utter loneliness; you couldn’t do it again. 

And you wouldn’t let them parade you around for a trial that was more show than reality. They would drag Natasha into it. They would pick apart every detail of your relationship until they twisted even the most pure moments. You couldn’t do that to her.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a hitch in your voice. Nat raised a curious brow. “I can’t do that.”

You had always been a little bit faster than her. Your hand found the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans and you had her in your sight.

The bullet entered your chest, but you didn’t feel pain. You were too resigned, too weary to feel anything other than a calming blankness. You caught a flash of shock and maybe regret on Nat’s face even as her finger remained on the trigger she had just fired.

You dropped your gun; it had done its job, as your legs slowly gave out on you. Her aim was as good as ever. It wouldn’t be long now.

Your vision became hazy, but you could make out her blurred form approaching you slowly. It took all your strength to move your hand, resting it on top of your coat pocket, feeling the reassuring shape of the picture beneath it.

Breathing was difficult as blood filled your throat. Anyone who says dying is peaceful is a liar. It was terrifying and awing and inevitable. 

Natasha knew when the life finally left your body. There was an unnatural stillness that was impossible for a person to recreate. 

She supposed she was in some state of shock. The combination of your betrayal and now death sending her reeling. But her training was thorough. This was hardly the first time she had been confronted with death and disloyalty. 

Her eyes fell to your hand, the one you had struggled so ardently to move, and she found herself moving it gently to the side and reaching into your coat pocket.

When she noticed the folded picture, her brow furrowed, curious. Opening it, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the two of you. You had been so in love. Or had you? She felt the need to question every aspect of your relationship now, and she hated you for that.

She folded the picture back up and hesitated a moment before slipping it into her jeans pocket. She needed to focus. There was protocol. She had to call…someone. She wasn’t sure whom. SHIELD had fallen, Nick was playing dead, and Steve was unconscious in a hospital. But she’d figure it out. She always did.

Natasha was strong. She was immovable. Natasha Romanoff didn’t cry, but she couldn’t ignore the telltale burn in her eyes. 

After the collapse of SHIELD and the leak of classified information, she would need to go into hiding. She had grown to like the life she had. In the tower she had friends, love, a sense of stability that she had lacked in the past. Everything was gone now.

So she did what she does best, and disappeared.


	18. No More Secrets (Steve Rogers x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: No More Secrets
> 
> Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
> 
> Summary: Sequel to Maybe Not.

With the fight over and your team safe once more, you supposed you should have felt relief. But the war was hardly over, not while you were forced to hide out in Wakanda or face arrest on international criminal charges. T’Challa had been a gracious host, but you couldn’t help but feel trapped, and it wasn’t helping your mood.

Most of the team was on edge. Clint and Scott wanted nothing more than to see their families. Wanda wanted to be with Vision. Steve was once again mourning the loss of Bucky now that he decided to go back into cryo. 

You and Sam were at a loss.

Unlike the others, you had no children, no significant other left behind. You missed your friends, but so did everyone else. You didn’t know what to do with yourselves.

Sam focused on training. T’Challa had offered to upgrade his wings, and Sam took him up on it eagerly. When the two of you weren’t working out to pass the time, he was experimenting with the modifications the King had made.

When Sam was busy, you often found yourself falling into a funk. The two of you were friends, but were hardly as close as him and Steve. You once thought yourself close to Steve too, but the past few months seemed to reveal the obvious cracks in your friendship. Once he knew Bucky was alive, the divide began.

Steve became wrapped up in finding Bucky. You understood and hardly blamed him. Then Peggy died, and for the first time you saw Steve really fall apart. You tried to lend him a shoulder to cry on, but he turned to Natasha for comfort. You didn’t take it personally; grief affects everyone differently. 

Sam had you convinced that if you had the courage to tell Steve how you felt about him, that his eyes would finally open. He was certain that Steve would finally see the woman who was right in front of him, who loved him for the man he really was.

Then he kissed Sharon Carter.

Sam stopped his attempts at matchmaking after that. And you stopped idealizing your relationship with Steve. You were friends maybe, teammates definitely, but never anything more. So you remained where you were, at his side, during the arguments with Tony. Through the fighting and revelations, you never wavered. But now that you had found a temporary peace, you decided it was time to take a step back.

No more reaching out to Steve. You had tried too hard for too long to insert yourself into a meaningful role in his life. To be honest, you were tired of trying. 

Most days you spent with Sam, and occasionally T’Challa. You enjoyed watching the two spar. You had a running bet with Clint on long it would take each session before Sam made one too many cat jokes and T’Challa would send him flat to the mat. 

Yesterday the King only lasted a minute and a half. 

You weren’t in the mood to watch them banter this afternoon. With little to keep you occupied, you had begun to spend a lot of time in your rooms. You weren’t avoiding anyone. You just didn’t feel motivated to do much of anything. Your life had been filled with one mission after the next for years now. Without direction, you were left feeling aimless.

A knock on your door caused you to frown, pausing the television but refusing to budge from your comfortable spot laid out on the couch.

“I’m skipping today’s episode of ‘Sam Gets His Ass Kicked’,” you called out, “have fun without me.”

You heard the door open with a short squeak, and didn’t look up until you heard the sound of an awkward clearing of the throat. Leaning your head back, your brow furrowed when you spotted Steve peeking inside your apartments. 

“Uh, sorry. It’s not Sam,” he gave you a nervous half smile. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” you drawled, sitting up and watching his movements curiously. “What can I do for you, Cap?”

He took a seat on your couch and you adjusted your position, leaving more space between the two of you.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in here,” he started gently, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. So this was Steve playing the concerned authority figure. What a surprise.

“It is my room,” you reminded him, with a sarcastic bite. 

“I know,” he stammered slightly, “I just mean…well—Wanda, Clint and Scott spend a lot of time together. And Sam and T’Challa are working together pretty frequently. I noticed you don’t really hang out with anyone. I was worried,” he shrugged self-consciously.

“And who are you spending all your time with, Captain?” you retorted defensively. Sure, you were lonely. But that was your problem, and he certainly wasn’t the solution. “If I remember correctly, you spend most of your days in the lab watching Bucky.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he broke in with a soothing voice. 

“You didn’t,” you muttered. “I’m just being honest. Some of us are adjusting better than others. But none of us want to be here. You shouldn’t judge people for how they cope.”

Steve sighed deeply, running a tired hand over his face. “I’m not—I just wanted to know if you were okay. You haven’t exactly spoken to me much since Germany.”

At the mention of Germany, your shoulders stiffened and you couldn’t conceal your obvious discomfort. Steve, normally oblivious Steve, took notice. 

“What happened?” he pressed, looking so sincere that you wanted to slap him in his earnest face. “We used to talk all the time. Did I—did I do something?” 

He was giving you the damn puppy dog eyes and you had to fight the urge to tell him everything. 

“Not really,” you half shrugged. “Things got crazy, Tony didn’t really leave us with much time to chit chat.”

“No, even before that,” he frowned. “You started to pull away from me long before the Accords.”

“I didn’t pull away, Steve,” you said bluntly. “You pushed me away.”

He looked taken aback and ready to argue, but you interrupted him before he could get a word in. “It started with Bucky. You were determined to find him. I offered to help in any way, and you insisted you had to do it on your own. When Peggy died, I was there to support you and you turned me away. And then—” you paused at the thought of Sharon, letting your words hang ominously.

“And I get it,” you tried to explain, unable to look him in the eye knowing how pained his expression would be. “You were scared, desperate, and grieving. But a person can only be rejected so much before they stop trying.”

“I never thought…I didn’t mean to do that,” Steve admitted sorrowfully. “You’ve always been a great friend to me and I never meant to jeopardize that.”

You smiled weakly. You were a great friend. Just a friend. 

Steve knew his apology wasn’t the best, but your reaction had him confused. He had expected you to grace him with an understanding grin, and was concerned when you showed little sign of happiness. 

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” he said warily, truly worried about what had you so sad.

“Just leave it, Cap,” you murmured softly, hiding your eyes from him. 

“No,” he denied, scooting a little closer to you and resting a comforting hand on your leg. At least you supposed it was meant to be comforting. You were left feeling strained and uneasy. “Please, tell me. I can’t fix things unless you tell me what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you sighed. “Trust me, this is on me.” 

Steve didn’t give up, wearing you down slowly with his penetrating gaze. You shook your head in consternation. You were going to regret this.

“I have—feelings—for you,” you bit out, staring unblinkingly at the wall. “I’ve had them for a long time. I had given up on even being a friend to you after…everything. But Sam, who is too damn nosy for his own good, kept insisting that I should tell you. So I finally decided to just get it over with, but then—”

“Then what?” he croaked, and you cringed at the embarrassment you hear in his voice. 

“You kissed Sharon Carter,” you confessed, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders. It wasn’t quite the declaration of love you had planned, but at least things were out in the open. Now you could really work on moving past it. 

Silence reigned, but Steve seemed to realize he still had his hand on your thigh and nervously pulled it back. You smirked to yourself, chagrined. What a dope.

“Sharon—” he stumbled over his words, but you raised a hand to stop him. 

“You don’t have to explain,” you assured him. “It’s none of my business.”

“You don’t understand,” he huffed, and you finally took a good look at him face. The blush on his cheeks was hardly a surprise, but the determined tilt of his mouth and his wide-eyed gaze took you back. 

“Natasha has been pushing me for years to move on,” Steve recalled with frustration. “But Peggy, she was my girl. I couldn’t—I couldn’t just forget her. And when she died I,” he bit the inside of his cheek to stave away tears, “it felt like my old life, all of that was ending. And Sharon…I guess she reminded me of Peggy in a way, and it was easy to pretend, even for just a minute. But I don’t—I care about her, but I don’t love Sharon.”

You smiled half-heartedly, tentatively reaching forward and squeezing his arm comfortingly. 

“You’re allowed to have feelings for other women,” you consoled him. “Peggy wanted that for you. You’re not disrespecting her memory. If you want to date Sharon, you should.” The words killed you to say, but it was the truth. 

“I don’t. Want to date Sharon,” he clarified, embarrassed. 

“What do you want, Steve?” you exhaled, not hopeful but resigned.

“I want to know if we can start over?” he said shyly, and you tilted your head curiously. “Maybe you could join me for dinner tonight? We haven’t talked in so long.”

Your tense silence made him shift uncomfortably on the couch. 

“I think I’ll pass,” you turned him down gently.

“Why?” he asked, bewildered.

“Dinner together?” you repeated back to him incredulously. “It feels too much like a date. And considering I just admitted to being head over heels for you, I’d rather spare my dignity this hit and just spend the rest of the day alone.”

“What if it was a date?” Steve nearly choked on his words out of pure anxiety. 

“Just because I admitted how I feel doesn’t mean I want a pity date,” you groaned.

“It’s not!” Steve blurted out, and you looked at him skeptically. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “You were right,” he admitted, head hung low. “I pushed you away. Whenever I needed you, you were there. When we spent time together, it felt…right. And I panicked. I felt like I was betraying Peggy. So I kept my distance. And then when she—died, I was completely lost. And I did something stupid.”

You licked your lips nervously as he hit you with a dopey grin.

“I’m an idiot,” he acknowledged, and you stifled an amused snort. “I’m just asking for a chance to do things right this time.” 

You knew there was a very good chance this could blow up in your face eventually, but somehow you found yourself agreeing to his invitation. “One dinner,” you conceded. 

Steve’s face lit up and he pulled you into a grateful hug. You could feel his smile as he buried his head in your neck, exhaling in relief. “It’s a start.”

Hopefully it was the start to something wonderful.


	19. It Comes Back to You (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: It Comes Back to You  
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader  
> Request: Could you please do a Bucky X reader where it's set after Civil War (let's pretend Bucky doesn't go in Cryo because that is too painful) and the reader doesn't have a right arm and she says to Bucky something along the lines of "I'll be your left arm if you'll be my right" and it's a fluffy/angsty mixture.

You didn’t remember much about the actual accident. You couldn’t recall if the beam of light that had split a building in two had belonged to Tony or Vision. In the end, it didn’t really matter. It wouldn’t change the facts. 

The fight in the airport had been chaotic. In an attempt to stop Steve and Bucky from escaping, someone blew apart the control tower. You were left pinned beneath debris. 

Knocked unconscious, you couldn’t call for help. From what you were told after, Bucky and Steve managed to rush onto a jet and head for Siberia. Rhodey had been hit by a stray beam and had plummeted to the ground. It was Sam who managed to find you amidst all the confusion. 

Fragments of that day still haunted you. Seeing your right arm pinned under steel. When they were able to move the girder, blood began to flow everywhere. You started to lose consciousness again. Sam told you that Nat really saved you. She was able to tie off what was left of your arm near your shoulder to staunch the bleeding.

You and Rhodey left the scene via helicopter, while the rest of your team was led away in handcuffs. Your arm had been unsalvageable. Doctors amputated it at the shoulder. Rhodey had no feeling in his legs, and you had too much feeling in an arm that was no longer there.

Once you were stable, General Ross decided you were to be shipped off to the Raft to join the rest of your team. 

Tony had objected at first. But he was tired and broken and gave up the fight soon enough. You weren’t surprised. There had been a time when you would have confidently said that Tony would do anything for the people he loved. But this Tony had already pushed Pepper out of his life. If he wasn’t willing to fight for her, you didn’t stand a chance. You were sent away two days later.

You didn’t have a chance to see much of the team once you arrived at the Raft. You were wheeled by guards and medical staff toward the med bay, past the cells containing your friends.

Clint was angry, furious that they brought you here in such condition, and yelled his profanity laced opinions at the guards. Scott was taken aback at the state of you, but since he didn’t know you well, he remained quiet. Wanda too was silent, but the straightjacket and collar she wore spoke volumes.

You caught Sam’s gaze for a moment before you were directed down the hall, but his wordless stare felt strangely comforting. Things were going to be okay, he seemed to say. Captain America was going to save us.

You didn’t know if you shared his optimism, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

Sam turned out to be right.

A week later, the alarms began to blare and the light gave way to darkness. There was a commotion on the Raft, the occasional sound of guns firing, but your heart rate didn’t spike your blood pressure didn’t rise. You were as you had been since the accident, numb. 

Undoubtedly directed by Sam, Steve found you in short order. He couldn’t hide his initial look of shock at the sight of you, but schooled his face as best he could. 

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he assured you, gently tugging on all the IVs and tubes attached to you. You stared at him blankly. 

When you were free of all encumbrances, he slipped one arm under your knees and another under your back, lifting you from the bed. You moved reflexively to wrap your arms around his neck for balance, dazed when you noticed only one arm move to circle his neck. It was a sobering reminder. 

Steve didn’t waste any time getting you all out of there.

A plane was waiting, courtesy of King T’Challa, much to your surprise. It appeared he had a change of heart. He had offered you all safe passage to Wakanda. You were free of the prison, yet you still felt trapped.

You didn’t spend long in the hospital in Wakanda. Your shoulder had begun to heal nicely, according to the doctors. Your vitals were good. They had you on a round of antibiotics to stave off any possible infection. Physically you were doing well.

Mentally, you were floundering. 

You didn’t leave your room much. Dressing for the day seemed like a chore. None of your clothes fit right, reminding you once again that something was wrong with you. You shied away from training. You had been right handed. Now you couldn’t even hold a weapon.

Steve would drop by every day to check on you. He knew you weren’t coping well with your injury and always offered you a shoulder to cry on. You didn’t need a shoulder though; you needed an arm. Everyday you sent him away.

Wanda was worried. You always saw her concerned eyes fall on you whenever you did slink out of your room for food or water. Her powers made it obvious to her how much you were hurting.

It became routine to wait until night when the rest of the team had gone to sleep, then slip out in the cover of darkness to wander the grounds. The quiet was nice, and in the shadows the stubbed appearance of your shoulder bothered you a little less. 

You hadn’t expected anyone else to be up when you walked out onto the balcony to stare at the stars. By the time you spotted his hunched form leaning against the railing, it was too late. He had heard your entrance and looked over his shoulder at you, welcoming you with a tentative smile. Seeing any kind of smile of the face of Bucky Barnes was a rare sight.

Not wanting to be rude, you continued on your path, which ended a few feet away from him along the rail. 

You both stood in silence for some time. 

“How are you doing?” he asked quietly, tilting his head slightly.

You sighed deeply. “Steve asks me that every day,” you murmured. 

“And what do you tell him?” Bucky wondered.

“Usually, to get out of my room,” you grunted. Bucky chuckled a little and you bit your lip nervously. You never knew what kind of reaction to expect from him.

“How’s the—” he asked awkwardly, gesturing to your bandaged shoulder. 70 years in cryo had apparently chipped away at his manners, you thought. 

“Arm?” you finished for him, snappishly “Gone. Yours?”

“Same,” he snorted. You fell back into silence after the strained exchange.

“How—?” you found yourself wondering out loud, “I mean, I can still…feel it. Do you…”

“I didn’t have much feeling before,” he considered, head hanging. “The scientists left me with just enough, I guess. But it’s still strange.”

Turning to face you, you could see the little sleeve T’Challa’s people had constructed to protect what was left of the nerves in his arm.

“I used to look down at my hands and feel nothing but anger and hate when I saw the metal,” he admitted, staring at the flesh of his right hand. “But it was a part of me. Or at least it became a part of me. Without it I’m free from Hydra, in one way, and happy to be rid of it. But I’m a soldier, a fighter,” he grimaced, “without it I’m weaker. And that’s—frightening.”

“I can’t hold a gun anymore,” you confessed, too filled with shame and embarrassment to look him in the eye. “I can’t train with Clint on the bow. I can’t even sign my damn name on a piece of paper anymore.” 

Bucky could practically feel the pain in your words. 

“You won’t be vulnerable forever, Cap will see to that,” you gave him a weak smile. “But I’m afraid I’ll never be anything more than useless now.”

“You’re not useless,” Bucky reprimanded you gently. “No one thinks that but you. Not me, not Steve, not Sam, Clint, Scott or Wanda. If you said that to T’Challa, I’m pretty sure he’d give you a rousing yet elegant speech about why you’re wrong.”

You rolled your eyes in an uncommon show of amusement.

“I’m—not coping well,” you conceded reluctantly.

“Neither am I,” he shrugged. “But Steve keeps telling me that it has only been a couple of weeks, and I need to give it time. That’s what we both need, time.”

You nodded, knowing his words were true even if you didn’t want them to be.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered with a boyish half smile. “We’ll figure this out, you and me. And until then, you can be my left arm, and I’ll be your right.”

You tried to hide your grin at his sweet if slightly unorthodox suggestion, but he still saw and it appeared quite proud of himself that he was able to make you smile. 

“It’s a deal,” you muttered self-consciously.

“We should head to bed,” Bucky said after a beat, reddening a bit when he saw your amused smirk. “Separately. We should head to each of our beds. To sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

“I do?” you replied in askance. 

“Yep,” he drawled. “Steve’s going to knock on your door and ask you how you are, and you’re going to actually let the poor guy inside and talk to him.” You raised your brow skeptically. “Hey, I’m not going to be the only one who has to listen to his pep talks anymore. We’re a team now, we suffer together.”

“Fine,” you gave in. “Since we’re a team.” 

Bucky escorted you to your door, giving your hand a squeeze before saying goodnight and heading off to his room. You stood in the hall for a moment, contemplating what happened, a strange sense of lightness filling you.

Things weren’t great, that was for certain. But they were starting to look up. And maybe, with Bucky at your side, you wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed anymore. 

Life had changed dramatically since the Accords. You had lost friends, freedom, and your arm. But you were learning that there were still people you could rely on, who believed in you. Life wasn’t over it was just different. 

Bucky finally made you didn’t have to go through this alone.


	20. In Your Eyes (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: In Your Eyes  
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader  
> Request: A soulmate AU if it's all right! One where once you hit 21, you don't age until you meet your soulmate, then the aging process resumes normally. So the Reader was born in the 40's and never met Bucky, only knew about him through Steve, thus never aging and decides to train as a SHIELD agent until recruited into the Avengers due to her physical prowess and never aging. So they finally meet in "Winter Soldier", and realize they're soulmates when reunited in "Civil War."

Part One:

 

1943 was supposed to be your year. Turning twenty-one was supposed to be a momentous occasion. It marked the beginning of your future, and the eventual discovery of your soulmate, your other half. You had celebrated with your girlfriends that night, giddy about the possibilities that awaited you and giggling about your dream man. 

They say that when you meet your soulmate, you just know. Some people described it as a rush of joy and exhilaration. You couldn’t wait to find out what it was like, what it felt like to look into the eyes of your true love and just know that this was the person you were meant to spend your life with.

But your twenty-first year went by with nary a feeling. The war was in full swing and Brooklyn was full of young men in uniforms, enjoying their last days at home before shipping out. Soldiers came into the diner where you worked all the time, but not one of them made your heart skip a beat.

It was okay, you told yourself. You would just give it time. But when another year passed, then two more, you began to worry. 

The world had changed in many ways. America found itself a much needed hero in Captain America, only to lose him as he sacrificed his life for his country. Too many soldiers suffered a similar fate, never to return to their families. Men who had survived the horrors of the war were back home and trying to settle back into civilian life. 

When five years turned into ten, you began to wonder if your soulmate had been one of the unlucky. It would explain his absence, as much as you hated to think of it. If he was truly gone, what was to become of you? 

Life had a funny sense of humor. When you turn twenty-one, you stop aging until you find that special someone. The romantics explain it away by saying it’s so the two of you can grow old together. But there’s a darker side.

There are the unfortunate few whose soulmate had been lost to them. The couple would never meet, and as such they would remain young and vital well into what should have been their dotage. Young, vital, and very much alone. 

The years continued to go by, and you watched your friends grow old, have children, and move on. But you remained, trapped in your youth and slowly losing touch with people you once considered family.

By 1960, you had long since accepted that your fate was sealed. There would be no better half, no family, no children. You had grown increasingly frustrated with your stagnant life. 

The day you ran into Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter was the day that everything changed. 

It had been a simple chance run in. Literally, you ran into the poor woman. But she was so composed and put together that you instantly felt covetous of her carefree demeanor. From then on, you would occasionally spot her about, at a café by your apartment, in a shop near your work.

You never thought much of her random appearances, you simply figured she must work or live nearby. Had you ever been wrong.

She knew who you were, she had explained as you stood in stunned silence. She knew you were one of the unattached, forever young and without purpose. She said she knew what it was like to live without a soulmate. Hers had died in the war. If you were looking for a purpose, for meaning in your life, she swore she could offer you that. There was an organization called SHIELD, she was in charge, and it was in need of recruits. 

You had asked for time to think it over, a bit in shock at the proposition. She gave you all the time you needed. After all, time was on your side. In the end you decided to accept her job offer. Life had lacked direction up until then. Maybe serving your country in some way would make you feel useful.

Peggy remained a close friend through the decades. After losing her soulmate, Steve Rogers, she fought diligently to move on and allow herself a bit of happiness. She married a widower, had a child, and she was content. She wanted the same for you, but you could never bring yourself to try. Yours was a lonely existence, but you had gotten used to it. The familiarity was comforting.

You preferred to spend your time training. If you couldn’t have the traditional life you had hoped for, you were going to make the most out of this new one. You moved up in the ranks. Peggy stepped down as director, and you found yourself even more focused on the job.

By the time Nick Fury was the director of SHIELD, you were a decorated agent, respected by your peers. You worked alongside notorious spies like Natasha Romanoff, and experts in their field like Clint Barton. 

You avoided the likes of Tony Stark like the plague. The man was a walking hormone and you wanted no part of him. 

When Fury announced that Captain America had been found in the ice, and amazingly was alive, you felt a tug at your heart at the thought of Peggy. Her husband died long ago, and now she lay in hospice, struggling to remember where she was most days. And now Steve Rogers was back, her Steve, and they would never get the chance to live a life together like they were supposed to.

You avoided Steve at first. Between his connection to Peggy and the way he reminded you of home, it was overwhelming to be around him. But Steve wasn’t a quitter, and he was determined to learn more about you. You offered him a truce of sorts, and after a few months Fury assigned the two of you as partners. 

The two of you complemented each other. Steve was more trusting and hopeful .You were woefully pragmatic, and a realist of the highest order. These qualities would come in handy when SHIELD began to collapse around you. 

It wasn’t the best afternoon you ever had, sitting in a cramped car with Sam, Nat, and Steve. You were on the run from the organization you had dedicated your life to and, as much as you hated to admit it, at a loss for what to do. Steve had taken the role of leader and you were more than willing to follow his direction.

But all hell broke loose on the middle of the freeway when a metal hand punched through the roof the car and ripped the steering wheel out of Sam’s hands.

With the vehicle losing control, Steve signaled for you and Nat to climb into the front and taking a tight grip on the three of you, Steve hurled you out of the car and onto the freeway, with the car door protecting you from the road.

At the sound of gunfire, the four of you spread out. It happened so fast, you still weren’t sure how you all got separated. By the time you got your bearings, Nat was crouching behind a car holding a hand to what looked like a wounded shoulder, Sam was shooting at a man in black who was armed to the teeth and headed straight for Steve, and you were taking out a handful of Hydra soldiers.

It was chaos, complete and utter chaos. Steve was fighting with everything he had, and Sam was stuck dealing with a few soldiers of his own.

A loud explosion caught you off guard. You spotted Steve, now alone and disoriented. You could hear the sound of a helicopter off in the distance. And then you caught a glimpse of black and took of running. 

The assailant might have slipped past Steve, but you weren’t about to let him escape. Hydra was closing in, if the engine noise and yelling was any indication, and you couldn’t waste a second.

You jumped down to street level, rushing to climb on top of a car so you could take advantage of the high ground. You threw yourself bodily into the soldier, and you felt a strong, metal arm grip your torso tightly. He was taking you with him as he slammed into the asphalt. 

Hitting the ground hard, you stifled a groan, sending a sharp elbow to his face. His grip faltered and you were able to slip out of his grasp. You clamored to your feet, moving into a fighting stance. He took his time, head bowed and face covered by hair as he pulled himself up. His hand rested threateningly on the handle of the knife at his belt. 

As he moved to unsheathe it, he looked up and your eyes met, his disturbingly blank. And it happened. The rush of adrenaline, the joy, the feeling of completeness, it filled you and your heart began to race in horror. It had to be him, the one you’d been waiting for your whole life. And he was trying to kill you. 

You saw him flinch, as if simply seeing you was painful, and his hand on the knife wavered. 

The noise around you, the people and the panic, dimmed and you wanted nothing more than to know who he was, why he was trying to kill all of you, why he of all people was your soulmate.

Before you could form the words, his expression hardened and his body stiffened. There was yelling from behind him, Hydra soldiers calling to him, and without a backward glance he left you standing on the street as he and his team rushed into an SUV and peeled away from the scene. 

You stumbled, still in shock. You finally were able to take stock of the area around you, disturbed when you noticed a convoy of black SUVs pulling up. That wasn’t SHIELD preparing to offer an assist. 

Running towards Steve, you didn’t quite make it. Someone tackled you from behind, throwing you to the ground. Looking up you could see Steve, Nat and Sam receiving similar treatment. Hearing a gun cock, you pulled yourself onto your knees slowly, raising your hands and mimicking the submissive position Steve had taken.

This was it. Brock Rumlow was here, there was no doubt about it. This was to be an execution. You closed your eyes, letting a weary chuckle escape you. You had finally met your soulmate, a man who apparently wanted you dead, and now you were about to die. 

Life truly was a joke.

But the gunshot never came. It was the helicopter that saved you. God bless the errant news crew who wanted to see what caused such a commotion on a busy freeway. Instead you arrested, for show of course, and piled into a van.

Two soldiers in full uniform sat with the four of you, saying nothing. Sam was exhausted, you could see it on his face. Natasha was losing blood and a lot of it. And Steve looked distraught. 

“It was him,” he muttered, more to himself. “It was Bucky.”

“Who was Bucky? You mean your friend from home?” you asked in confusion. Your head was all over the place and Steve wasn’t making a lot of sense.

“The man on the bridge,” Steve met your eyes, desperation clear on his face. “That was Bucky. He looked right at me and he didn’t recognize me.”

“The soldier,” you said slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. “The one with the metal arm. That was Bucky?”

Steve nodded solemnly as Nat and Sam watched with mild interest.

“I—I think,” you stammered, and Steve looked at you with concern. You were never one to stumble over your words. “He—I mean, we looked at each other and I…felt…something.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, but a knowing look dawned on Nat’s face.

“What do you mean you felt something?” he asked in confusion.

“I mean,” you swallowed tightly, “I think he’s my soulmate.”


	21. In Your Eyes (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: In Your Eyes
> 
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader
> 
> Request: A soulmate AU if it's all right! One where once you hit 21, you don't age until you meet your soulmate, then the aging process resumes normally. So the Reader was born in the 40's and never met Bucky, only knew about him through Steve, thus never aging and decides to train as a SHIELD agent until recruited into the Avengers due to her physical prowess and never aging. So they finally meet in "Winter Soldier", and realize they're soulmates when reunited in "Civil War."

Part Two:

 

It had been three years since your encounter with the Winter Soldier and the revelation that Bucky Barnes may in fact be your soulmate. But little had changed in your life since then, aside from a couple of wrinkles at the corner of your eyes. You were aging now, but still alone. 

After nearly killing Steve only to save him from drowning, Bucky disappeared. Even with extensive resources, he had yet to be found. Steve never stopped looking for him. Sam was always off following any lead he could find. But you weren’t part of the ‘Find Bucky’ club. You considered it, and Steve would welcome the help, but something held you back.

You used to rationalize your lack of action by arguing that solitude was what Bucky wanted, and he deserved to be in control of his life for once.

But the true reason you remained on the sidelines was entirely selfish.

During the fight with Ultron, Wanda had laid waste to the team, entrapping them all in twisted visions. You knew Steve had seen Peggy, seen a glimpse of what life could have been like, and it had left him devastated. Whatever Thor saw had him fleeing the planet.

You saw him. Bucky. He was standing in his old uniform, smiling like he did in the pictures Steve would show you. His arms were wrapped around you, one hand resting on your swollen belly as the two of you prepared to welcome your first child. And then the men came, dressed in black and armed to teeth. Bucky fought to protect you but there were too many of them. They tore him away from you. His look of terror was the last thing you saw before a knife slid across your throat and your vision ended. 

Later, when Wanda became one of the team, she tried to apologize for what she had put you all through. She tried to explain that she had manipulated your greatest wishes into your worst fears. Everyone forgave her, but you never could forget what you had seen.

You didn’t look for Bucky, because there was a good chance that if you found him, only death and pain would follow. 

Life settled into a relatively comfortable routine until the Accords. The government had taken advantage of Tony’s guilt and trauma and used it to try to control the Avengers. You couldn’t blame him for his choice to side with General Ross. He thought he was doing the right thing, the necessary thing. Rhodey followed him as expected. When Vision took his side, you saw the devastation in Wanda’s eyes. When Natasha joined them, you saw Steve flinch.

You couldn’t be swayed, despite Tony’s arguments. Much like Steve, you had seen what governments were capable of, had seen what happened when good men stood idly by during conflict. It meant you, Sam, and Steve were technically fugitives, but you didn’t really care. You spent your whole life following orders, but no more. There was a sort of freedom in knowing that you could grow old now. Life was finite, and you weren’t going to waste what was left of it fighting for the wrong side.

Wanda and Clint soon joined your ragtag band of soldiers. 

After the bombing, and the news that Bucky was being accused of setting off the device, Steve was more determined than ever to find him. 

The team found themselves in Germany on his trail. You followed, doing whatever Steve asked of you, while trying your best to remain detached.

When Steve, Sam, and Bucky managed to get themselves captured alongside the newly crowned King of Wakanda, you, Clint, and Wanda could only sit and wait for something to happen.

It was a matter of hours before Clint got a call from a worn out Sam, telling the team to meet them at a vacant warehouse. You made the trip in silence. 

When you arrived, Sam pulled Clint off to the side to talk. Wanda hopped up onto a crate near a window, looking out without really seeing. You went looking for Steve.

Down the shadowy hall, you spotted Steve with his back to you. His body held tension, which you certainly understood. You hadn’t expected to see Bucky Barnes sitting in front of him, metal arm held in a vice.

“You called?” your raspy voice caught both men’s attention and you found two sets of eyes on you, one relieved, the other curious.

“You’re okay,” Steve sighed, his expression softening.

“I’m not the one who managed to get arrested,” you shrugged, focusing solely on Steve and pointedly ignoring Bucky’s penetrating stare. “Sam looked pretty serious. He and Clint are have a man-to-man, I wasn’t invited.”

“We need help,” Steve admitted, running his hand through his hair. “Sam might know a guy, but we could use Clint’s help in finding him.”

“The more the merrier,” you half-smiled. “What about—” you nodded your head towards Bucky.

“He didn’t do it,” Steve declared wholeheartedly.

“You say that a lot,” you said flatly. “I mean, what is the plan? What do we do with him?”

“He has a name,” Bucky grunted, unhappy to be talked about like he wasn’t in the room.

“Sergeant James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, of the 107th,” you parroted with a roll of your eyes. “I know your name. Now can one of you answer my question?”

“We have to prove he’s innocent,” Steve frowned, concerned by your attitude. “We need to find the doctor who triggered him. Find out why he’s doing this.” 

“It’s a plan,” you shrugged. “Do you need anything? Otherwise I’m going to Wanda and kick her ass at a game of I Spy again.”

“Can I talk to you, in private?” Steve clarified. At your nod, he led you across the room. Bucky could still see the both of you, but he would have a slightly harder time overhearing your conversation.

“What’s going on?” Steve looked down at you in worry. 

“Nothing,” you furrowed your brows in confusion. “You asked us to meet you here, so we came.”

“I mean with you and Bucky,” he pressed. “You won’t even look at him. I know things are difficult considering…but you don’t need to be afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid of Bucky Barnes,” you chuckled sadly. “I’m just…I’m afraid I’ll get my hopes up only for him to disappear again. Plus there’s a good chance all of us could die or spend the rest of our lives in prison after all is said and done. No use in pretending there’s a happy ending in my future.”

“You can’t think like that,” Steve shook his head sadly. “We are going to get through this. Bucky is going to get a second chance at life; you deserve a second chance too. Together.” 

“I can always count on you for a pep talk, Cap,” you tried to smile, but it felt forced. 

“I need to call Sharon Carter and make arrangements to get our things back, figure what we do from here. Can you stay with him?” Steve implored.

Your eyes to Bucky, who was struggling to appear disinterested and failing miserably. You didn’t really want to be stuck alone in a room with him, but you had sworn to do whatever Steve asked of you. So you nodded shortly, seeing the Captain smile before leaving to make his phone call. 

Leaning against a concrete pillar, you watched Bucky out of the corner of your eye. He was frowning slightly at Steve’s departure, and fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Could you—can you release my arm?” he groaned.

“Sorry,” you sighed, “not without the Captain’s orders. He’ll be back soon.”

There was a long beat of silence where Bucky studied you, and you studied the dust-covered wall. 

“He told me about you,” Bucky admitted hesitantly. Your head lolled to the side and eyed him inquisitively. 

“And what did Steve say?” you said dully.

“He said you’re my soulmate,” he confessed rather bluntly. “I almost forgot that people had soulmates. But when I met you, my heart stopped and for the first time in nearly a century I felt like a man again. How did—what did you feel, when it happened?”

“Joy,” you nearly whispered, dropping your gaze to the floor. “And sadness.”

“Why?” he sat back, forehead crinkled. 

“You’re my soulmate,” you shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “And you were trying to kill me. It felt like a harsh dose of reality. Some people never meet their soulmates, and even if they do, they don’t always get a happy ending.” Bucky looked a bit shaken. “I don’t think we’re destined for a happily ever after. We’re not the type. Not anymore.”

“Steve thinks we’ll get out of this, that he can clear my name and make things right again,” he recited, trying not to come across as crushed as he felt. 

“He’s an optimist of the highest order,” you smirked in bemusement. “And if he’s right, then who knows? Maybe we can revisit this, try and…build something. But I’m a realist, and I’m not sure it’s going to work out that way.”

“Have a little faith,” Bucky smiled faintly. “Steve doesn’t accept defeat.”

You shook your head, feeling a little wistful. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” you promised.

 

Steve made arrangements for the team to meet with Sharon Carter the next day to retrieve their gear. Clint was gone, off to find some mysterious recruit. Bucky was freed from the vice, but Sam observed his every move, prepared for an attack. But no attack ever came.

Instead, Steve and Bucky spent most the evening talking and reminiscing. Steve invited you to join in, but you simply hovered on the outside of their conversation. You may have been from the same time, but theirs were different life experiences. And like you told them both, you were hesitant to become attached. At least until this whole debacle was over with.

The next morning Steve, Sam and Bucky piled into a VW Beetle and left to meet Sharon. Seeing Sam call shotgun and the incredulous look on Bucky’s face and made you laugh for the first time in weeks. 

You and Wanda stayed behind to wait for Clint.

The group reconvened outside an airfield, including your newest teammate, Scott Lang. He called himself Ant-Man. Sam called him Tic Tac. But Scott was too enamored with Steve and his biceps to react to the nickname.

It didn’t take long for things to go down hill. The airport was being evacuated, which meant Tony and his team knew you were here. They knew you were after the jet so you could continue your search for the man now known as Zemo.

As you slipped into your uniform and gathered your weapons, you were struck by the feeling that this was goodbye. There was no coming back from this fight. If you won, Tony and his team would be lost to you. If you failed, Bucky’s fate was sealed and you would rot in prison. And that was if everyone made it out alive.

Once the witty banter portion of the afternoon ended, the real fighting began. You were able to focus on doing your part and ignoring everything else going on in the background. Naturally you gravitated to Bucky, lending him a hand against Black Panther. 

Bucky was no novice, but T’Challa had a skill that no one on this field could rival. And wearing a suit made of vibranium shielded him from Bucky’s hardest hits. Once Clint was able to join you, you gave Bucky the signal to run. After a moment’s hesitation he did. 

Not long after you heard Sam in your earpiece, telling Steve and Bucky to go, that there was no saving all of you. You knew it would come down to this, Steve’s optimism be damned. When Steve tried to argue, you broke in with a solemn order. “Go.”

You were relieved when you saw the jet take flight, and your heart plummeted when Rhodey slammed into the ground soon after. Your team tried to help him, but Tony wouldn’t hear of it. It didn’t take long for backup to arrive.

The day ended with you and your team in handcuffs and Rhodey headed to the hospital. 

You weren’t sure how long you spent imprisoned on the Raft. Tony showed up once and Clint told him where he could stick his apologies. After that, there were no more visitors.

When the monotonous routine you had come to expect finally ended with a power failure, Sam seemed to know that it would mean rescue. He turned out to be right, to your surprise. Steve was there to save the day.

You were taken aback when Steve informed you that you were headed to Wakanda. Last time you saw King T’Challa he was trying to rip Bucky apart with his claws. Now apparently things had changed. The king offered your team sanctuary, including Bucky. And considering that you were wanted in 119 countries, you weren’t about to turn down his generous offer. 

By the time you arrived to Wakanda, it was night. T’Challa had someone show to your room so you could rest. You were looking forward to a hot shower and a comfortable bed. 

When you walked inside, Bucky Barnes was sitting on your nice, comfortable bed, looking vulnerable without his metal arm. 

Closing the door behind you, you took a step toward him. He had something he needed to say, you could tell.

“I killed Tony’s parents.”

That wasn’t the greeting you expected. 

You knew something bad went down between Steve, Tony, and Bucky in Siberia. But news rarely made it into the Raft so the team had been left to speculate.

“The Soviets,” he continued, running his hand across his tired face, “they put these—words—into my head. And when they say them I lose all control. I become their puppet. They used them so I would kill Tony’s parents. So I would kill anyone who stood in their way.”

You walked toward him slowly, taking a seat beside him on the bed. “It’s not your fault,” you murmured. You knew it was a platitude he had surely heard before, but that didn’t make it less true.

“That doesn’t matter,” he smiled wearily. “I still did it. And they’re still in my head. Zemo used the words in Germany. I nearly killed Steve and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“So what are you saying?” you asked nervously, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach. 

You had made it through the storm. You and your team weren’t in prison. Bucky and Steve were in a safe place away from the law. This was what Bucky had been hoping for. This was the opportunity you needed to really make a go of it. But the Bucky sitting before you was all despair and resignation, and it didn’t bode well for your future.

“T’Challa has an amazing team of scientists,” Bucky revealed, unable to look you in the eye. “They are doing everything they can to find out how to neutralize the trigger words.”

“That’s good,” you drawled, knowing there was more. 

“But they don’t know how long it will take to find the answer,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “And every second I’m awake I’m a danger to everyone around me. I’m a danger to you.”

“You’re going back under,” you laughed to yourself. Because of course he was. You had warned him, the two of you just weren’t meant for a happy ending. He hadn’t believed you, oh how wrong he had been.

“It’s safer for everyone,” Bucky tried to defend his position, pleading with you to understand. “It’s safer for you.”

“You do what you have to do,” you muttered, dismayed. Standing abruptly, you headed for the bathroom. “I need a shower. You can lock the door on your way out.” With that, you stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door behind you. You turned on the water and stepped under after undressing. It was faint, but a few minutes later you heard Bucky leave. 

He went back into cryo the next day.

Steve was with him, supportive even as he struggled with losing his best friend once again. You didn’t join him. 

Occasionally you would pass by the room where he was kept in stasis, and you would catch a glimpse of his face through the frost. But you didn’t linger. You no longer had an eternity; you had to live the life you were given. 

Bucky had made his choice. Now it was time for you to do the same. If you couldn’t be truly happy, you would have to settle for contentment. Without your soulmate, it was the best you could hope for.


	22. The Hurt & The Healer (Steve Rogers/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
> 
> Request: The reader is Tony's sister and was or is in a relationship with Steve and is there with him when he finds out Bucky killed his parents and she helps him fight Bucky and Steve maybe she gets hurt bad but won't let anyone but Tony help her.

Very little in your life made sense anymore.

Steve, American hero and all around good guy, was a wanted criminal. He was on the run with his childhood friend who just so happened to be a deadly assassin. The team was divided and resentment replaced camaraderie.

Tony wasn’t handling it well. 

He was in a bad place. His guilt was eating him alive. He was shouldering the entire burden of the Avengers’ actions and the strain was unbearable. Steve didn’t understand, he couldn’t. He wanted to be free to do what he believed was right. He wanted to save his friend. 

Steve never realized that Tony was trying to save his friends too.

The day of Peggy’s funeral, the day that it all went to hell, you had stayed at the Captain’s side as long as you could. You didn’t want him to be alone. When the bombing happened, he had excused himself for a moment to collect his thoughts. You waited ten minutes, then fifteen. When you finally opened the door to his hotel room, you found it empty. His things were gone, along with any trace of Steve. 

He left a note on the desk. “I need to find Bucky. I couldn’t drag you into the middle of this. Go home to Tony, your brother needs you.”

The implication, of course, was that Steve didn’t. Need you, that is. 

It wasn’t the first time that thought crossed your mind. There were moments when he’d reminisce about Peggy that you wondered if you could ever mean as much to him. 

So you did as he asked and went home. Not because he said to, but because he was right, Tony needed your support. Rhodey, Vision, and Natasha may have remained loyal to him, but he was doing his best not to let them see how troubled he was.

They didn’t know about the never-ending insomnia, about evenings spent staring at pictures of the ruins in Sokovia. They didn’t know Pepper was gone. 

Things went from bad to worse over the next two days. You found yourself following the team to Germany. Tony’s last-ditch effort to bring Steve in and end this disaster was a monumental bust that ended up with half your team members in prison and Rhodey paralyzed.

When the truth about the imposter came out, Tony demanded he be the one to go interrogate the prisoners and find out where Steve and Bucky went. You told him you were coming with him, despite his fervent objections. You needed to see if the team was all right. You needed to make sure Tony didn’t lose it. Seeing Rhodey in that hospital bed had made him colder, darker, and you were worried.

You weren’t expecting the Raft. Your heart sunk when you saw the massive prison begin to break through the ocean. To think this is where the government was keeping your friends. You glanced at Tony despairingly, but he only stared straight ahead.

Tony never broke his stride, not at the sight of Wanda tied up and collared like an animal, not when Clint railed at him with fury. You were beginning to wonder if your brother was even in there anymore, or was he just an angry shell of the man he once was.

It was his conversation with Sam that gave you some relief. Tony admitted he was wrong, something he never liked to do even as child. He asked Sam for help. And while Sam was skeptical, you could see in his eyes his worry for Steve. The Captain was in over his head.

You left the raft and boarded the jet in silence. Tony waited awhile before disabling the tracking device and turning towards Siberia. He still never said a word.

Your mind drifted back to the Raft, to the vision of Wanda rocking back and forth on the floor. “We can’t leave them there,” you whispered shamefully.

“We won’t,” Tony replied steadily as he gazed at the ominous horizon. “We’ll get them out. We’ll figure a way out of this.” His lips pursed. “We have to.”

The quinjet commandeered by Steve and Bucky was collecting snow as you landed outside the top-secret facility.

“Stay here,” Tony ordered as he suit began to come together.

“Not happening,” you retorted, pulling out the weapon’s case and arming yourself. “When the fighting is over, you both are going to need someone with a little common sense to help come to an agreement. And you might be a genius, brother, but common sense is something you’ve always lacked.”

“Then stay behind me, Girl Scout,” he teased, and you felt a tiny burst of happiness when you saw his mouth turn up in a slight smile. “And don’t get shot.”

Entering the base was a slow, methodical process. It was quiet, but every now and then a noise would raise your hackles and put you on edge. You had no idea how many people, let alone Winter Soldiers, could be loose in there.

Running into Steve had been awkward, to say the least. He was prepared to protect himself with his shield and Bucky was towering over him with a gun aimed straight at your brother. 

Tony tried to explain why he was there, and Steve finally relaxed. Bucky did not. His gun remained aimed at the arc reactor in Tony’s chest, and your gun was trained on the spot between his eyes. You’d put your weapon down when he did and not a minute sooner. 

When Tony moved to the side, Steve must have caught a glimpse of you. You didn’t know what his reaction was exactly, but he hurriedly stammered for Bucky to lower his weapon. When the soldier finally let his finger leave the trigger, you too lowered your gun.

Bucky lead the ragtag group further into the base, with Tony following, and Steve and you in the back.

“What are you doing here?” Steve hissed, worried and more than a little scared.

“I’m with Tony,” you said flatly, still feeling hurt that he had left you behind with so little care. “He needs me.”

“He needs you alive!” he said in a muffled shout. “I…I need you alive.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” you assured him softly, and hurried your steps to catch up with Tony.

Bucky froze when you reached the lab floor. When you finally caught up to him, you understood why. The other soldiers weren’t in the process of awakening. They were dead, a single bullet through each cryogenic chamber revealed their fate.

Everyone was left feeling confused. If Zemo’s mission hadn’t been to reawaken the soldiers, then what was his plan?

Zemo revealed himself, darkly pleased as the four of you gathered around demanding answers.

The video on the screen stopped all talk though.

The words were Russian, but it was easy enough to understand some of the writing. December 16th. You shared an anxious look with Tony. 

The scene abruptly switched to a quiet road and your heart stopped. 

“I know that road,” Tony muttered, stunned. You knew that road too. It had haunted your nightmares for years.

When the car crashed, you flinched. You knew it was coming, but actually seeing the accident was hard to watch.

Your father stumbled out of car, crawling on his hands and knees. You were perplexed, and your breath came rapidly. He died in the car, on impact. That’s what you were always told. He was found in the front seat.

When a man in black walked into the frame, it took you a second to realize who it was. Tony knew immediately. Even inside his armor you could see his whole body tense.

You hadn’t been prepared to see Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, whoever he was, slam his metal fist into Howard’s face. The first hit left you breathless. The fatal blow damn near ripped your heart out.

And when you thought it couldn’t get worse, he calmly walked to the passenger door where your mother sat in shock, and strangled the life out of her. Seeing that made you feel numb. But where shock had left you without feeling, it had broken something in Tony. 

Rage radiated from him. Rage, and utter grief.

“You killed my mom,” he turned to Bucky, voice cracking. Barnes didn’t look away, but faced Tony’s pain head on.

“Tony, you have to understand,” Steve stammered, taken aback. “He wasn’t in control. He didn’t—”

“Did you know?” Tony glared at Steve, and your body stiffened. Steve couldn’t have known. He would have said something. He was too honest, too good to keep that from you.

“I…I knew your parents were murdered,” he admitted, and your complete faith in Captain America shattered. “I didn’t know it was Bucky!” he tried to explain. “But, I knew…”

Steve took a step forward, reaching out for you, but you stepped aside. You couldn’t even look at him right now. Bucky and Steve didn’t even exist to you then. All that mattered was Tony. You had to be strong for Tony.

You stepped in front of him, forcing him to look you in the eyes. His shone with pain and anger. 

“Tony, please,” you murmured, wishing you could pull him into a tight hug but knowing it was useless. He wouldn’t even feel your touch through his suit. “Please.”

“Get out of the way,” he said flatly and you swallowed nervously. 

“Listen to me,” you entreated, but he would not be swayed.

“He lied to us,” Tony cried, glaring at Steve. His murderous gaze then fell on Bucky. “He killed mom. I can’t—he killed mom.”

Steve, unwisely, tried to play peacemaker and took a cautious step towards the two of you. “Tony, you have to—”

Before Steve could finish his sentence, Tony had pushed you away and launched himself at the Captain. Taking a hard hit to the jaw, Steve fell. Bucky reacted, and you knew in your head that he only wanted to protect his friend. But the look on his face while he slowly and brutally took the lives of your parents was burned into your mind. You couldn’t bring yourself to be the voice of common sense. Not anymore.

So when Tony attacked, you stood aside to watch as he poured all of his hurt into every punch. 

Steve ran past you, slamming into your shoulder as he raced to Bucky’s aid. You heard him, in the midst of the fight, pleading for you to help. To calm your brother.

You might end up regretting it one day, but at that very moment you felt no shame in saying, “No.” 

Staying out of the fight took every bit of strength you could muster. But you were in no way equipped to fight two Super Soldiers, let alone one with a metal arm. Your gun remained at your side and there it would remain. You didn’t want to kill anyone. But the same couldn’t be said for Tony. 

But you couldn’t stand still for long. 

Steve had been dealt a heavy blow and you were torn whether to step in or allow the fighting to continue. Steve didn’t deserve to die. He deserved some pain; he deserved to hurt for the lies and the secrets. 

Before you could decide on a plan of action, you saw Bucky throw himself at Tony. Your brother’s back hit concrete and he was pinned against the wall by Bucky. You didn’t hear the sound of the reactor charging, it was Bucky’s metal hand attempting to tear out the reactor, to tear out your brother’s heart that sent you running.

With a wild scream you leapt forward, clawing at Bucky, just as Tony let loose a beam that sent you and Bucky flying.

Bucky recovered, though shaky, to find that his metal arm had been shot off, with only burning remnants left behind. He staggered and collapsed. This sent Steve into a rage and he fought Tony with everything he was worth.

He was out for blood and you couldn’t let him hurt your brother. Things couldn’t end like this. 

You tried to sit up from your spot on the floor, but your arm gave out on you. Confused, you looked down in horror. The beam had ripped through your shoulder and part of your arm. Your body collapsed, shock overcoming you. The pain had been absent, but after seeing the bloody mess it began to set it. Your heart raced and your head felt faint.

The noise of clashing metal from Steve’s shield meeting Tony’s suit sounded muffled to your ears.

Your body felt light and your hold onto your consciousness was tenuous. You weren’t bleeding, the heat had cauterized the wound, but the damage was done. Just how much damage, you didn’t know.

“Tony.” You tried to call to him, but your voice was nothing but a whisper in the cacophony of noise. Taking a deep breath and gathering all the strength that remained, you screamed, “Tony!” 

You heard the sound of footsteps, quick and heavy. There was a sharp crash as Steve’s shield hit the ground. 

Steve reached you first, lighter on his feet, but you found yourself looking desperately for your brother. Tony fell to his knees and you could hear him cursing himself, cursing Steve, but his voice was muted and sounded like it was under water. 

Arms of iron cradled and lifted you, your head lolling to the side. You could hear Steve yelling but you couldn’t understand the words, and could nearly make out the look of sheer terror on his face, but your vision was fuzzy. Perhaps you imagined it.

You didn’t remember much after that.

Waking up in the hospital, you felt hazy. Whatever drugs the doctor had given you were doing an excellent job of keeping the pain at bay.

You turned your head, relieved to see Tony in one piece. Your brother was passed out indelicately in the chair next to your bed, head thrown back and drooling.

A part of you, in this strange fugue state, wondered where Steve was. If he was back at the compound or in the Raft with the rest of his team. 

But those thoughts disappeared when Tony began to wake, groaning and grimacing as he tried to work the kinks out of his back.

“Hey,” you murmured, and Tony’s eyes flew to your face. You could see the stark relief in them. 

“Hey, kid,” he smiled tentatively. “How are you feeling?”

“Loopy,” you snorted. “You saved me.”

“I almost killed you,” he admitted, his features darkening at the thought. 

“If I say you saved me, you saved me,” you contended, unwilling to let him blame himself for yet another tragedy. “You know the rules. What I say goes.”

“And people think I’m the bossy one,” he muttered teasingly.

“Tony…” you sighed, biting your lip, “what happened…I mean, where is Steve?”

All hint of playfulness left his face. “Steve’s gone,” he said shortly.

“But—” you made to argue, but Tony wasn’t having it.

“Leave it, okay?” he pleaded, and the desperate look on his face kept you silent. “Focus on getting better. We’ll have you out of this place in no time. We can go upstate and you can heal among nature, the fresh air, and all of that clichéd nonsense. I’ll even wait on you hand and foot. And when I’m bored with that, I’ll personally hire you an excellent nurse.”

“Don’t they need you at the compound?” you wondered in puzzlement. 

“I’m retired. Officially,” he stated bluntly, and you frowned.

“But Tony—”

“I’m done,” he cut you off sharply, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “They’ve taken enough from us. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” He looked away, trying to remain calm. “I can’t make you quit too, but think about it. Promise me. Just think about it.”

“Okay,” you agreed tentatively. 

You weren’t sure how you felt about anything. Your brain was still so hazy and there were so many unanswered questions. Where was Steve? Where did the two of you stand? Could you even look at him the same anymore?

Those were questions for the future. There were other things that required your immediate attention. Would you still have any function in your arm? Was Tony coping with his grief or continuing to spiral out of control? Would you be able to keep him from losing himself to the darkness? Even though you were younger, Tony had always been your responsibility. He was the wild one. You were the voice of reason.

But Tony wasn’t the only one feeling lost. 

And a small part of you wondered grimly, who would be there to keep you from drowning in your own grief?


	23. The Things That I've Done (Bucky Barnes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Things That I’ve Done
> 
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
> 
> Sequel to Dance with Danger: You were the ideal spy, unquestioning and obedient, until you saw him.

1/1

 

Your assignment had initially been an exciting one. You were to keep a close eye on Steve Rogers, the newly named Captain America, and report on his movements to your handlers.

All of your enthusiasm had dwindled quickly. 

He was no war hero. There was no army of super soldiers to threaten HYDRA. The death of Dr. Erskine had seen to that. Now Erskine’s greatest experiment traveled America putting on a pathetic show every night to wide-eyed dupes, surrounded by dancing girls as he pretended to punch Hitler.

Captain America was a joke, and you felt the bigger fool. You had been a loyal soldier. You deserved better than watching an over-muscled boy from Brooklyn selling himself for government bonds. 

Eventually his tour left the country, now intended to entertain the boys overseas. By the time you reached Italy, it appeared the good Captain had begun to lose his sense of purpose. You couldn’t get too close to the American encampment, but the jeers were clear enough to hear miles away. Hardened soldiers had no use for a man in a costume, playing at war.

You couldn’t blame them for their frustration. You felt much the same way.

Hurried movement in the camp caught your attention on the second day. Steve Rogers looked like a man on a mission, from what you could see in your binoculars. He disappeared to an airfield one night alongside his cheerleader Peggy Carter and the notorious Howard Stark. 

You couldn’t help but feel a frizzle of excitement course through your body. Finally, your job was getting interesting.

With no means to follow Rogers and no mission jotted on the ledger, you were forced to wait for the plane’s return. Your body was tense, ready to jump into action.

Howard Stark didn’t return for another three hours, and when he disembarked only Agent Carter exited with him. Curious as to Rogers’ whereabouts, you followed the duo back to the encampment.

Stark avoided the military, giving Agent Carter a hearty sendoff before driving away to whatever villa he currently resided in, you supposed. From her squared shoulders and grim expression, it was obvious that Carter was mentally preparing for one hell of a welcome.

From the furious expression on Colonel Phillips’ face, she had been right to prepare. 

Deciphering their conversation had been a true test of your skill at lip reading. From what you could make out, Agent Carter had ushered off the Captain to the outskirts of a HYDRA base where he intended to rescue trapped POWs. The Colonel was not thrilled, undoubtedly angry that living embodiment of Erskine’s formula, all that they had now, was being put in danger.

The Colonel was right to be worried. Schmidt and his men were well-armed and showed no fear. At least no fear of the enemy, Schmidt was terrifying enough in his own right. He ruled through fear. You gave him little thought though. Your encounters with him had been brief, but they were enough for you to understand his character.

He was a madman, drunk with power. He wasn’t the first and he wouldn’t be the last. Your job was to follow orders, not to question them. You did as you were told and Schmidt seemed satisfied. Let defeating the villain be someone else’s problem.

By the time you made the arduous trek to Schmidt’s base, it was engulfed in flames and the Red Skull was gone. 

For the first time in a long while you felt surprise. 

HYDRA was a very capable organization. Its fighters were well trained and had a vast store of arms. You truly had not expected one man, even a super soldier, to be able to pull off such a feat. Surely a meager army of tired POWs couldn’t have been that much help.

When you made it back to the outskirts of the American encampment, the previously reviled Captain America was being hailed a hero. You didn’t stick around that night, skulking in the bushes. 

There would be a communiqué waiting for you at your safe house. 

It was two days before you received new orders. HYDRA had been dealt an unexpected blow and Schmidt wanted to regroup and fast. But you hadn’t expected to be relieved of your assignment.

The orders were simple: you were to rendezvous with Arnim Zola in his new location and await further instruction.

You did as you were told, grabbing a go bag and following the directions laid out in your instructions. You boarded a train from the city to take you past the Alps, and silently seethed. 

For months you followed around a bumbling Steve Rogers as he awkwardly shilled the people for their money. You kept out of sight and dedicated all your time to discovering everything you could about the once scrawny boy you had barely noticed back in New York. And now someone would be taking your place. 

Your subject finally gets interesting, and your handlers send you away. Like you weren’t good enough, not capable enough. You didn’t have much in this life, but you had your skills, beaten into you at an early age. They were well honed and uncompromising. You were more than good enough, and it angered you to be passed over once again. 

Zola’s newest hideout was in a once Fascist occupied factory in Northern Italy. Your arrival was met with no fanfare, not that you expected any. This was a building full of doctors and scientists. They had little interest in spies and assassins. 

You were escorted to Zola’s office, where the little man greeted you with an unbecoming grin.

“I asked for you personally,” he confessed, as he fiddled with the bridge of his glasses, adjusting their seating. “I have an experiment that will need your—gentle touch,” he chose his words carefully and you felt momentary unease.

You were a soldier, you reminded yourself. You followed orders. But getting involved in Zola’s experiments was a terrifying prospect, even to you. Saying nothing, only bowing your head in response, the doctor twittered eagerly and led you out onto the factory floor.

Unsure of what to expect, you found yourself led to the body of an Allied soldier. You didn’t even catch a glimpse of his face, your eyes drawn to the metal where his arm was supposed to be.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?” Zola remarked in barely contained excitement. “He truly was a lucky find.”

“What have you done to him?” you murmured, unable to shake your feeling of alarm at the sight. This wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right. 

“He was a HYDRA prisoner, excellent test subject really. I was able to perform a few initial experiments on him before that damned Captain destroyed the base.” You listened closely as you watched a scientist raise the metal hand to the light, testing the agility of the fingers.

“He and the good Captain attempted to capture my train on my journey here,” Zola revealed, smiling pleasantly. “I’m afraid our soldier here lost his footing and fell from the Cliffside.

“But now for the truly remarkable!” he exclaimed. “He survived! Operatives found him, his arm trapped under debris. The arm had to go,” he shrugged. “But imagine my good fortune. What a perfect specimen. I gave him a new arm. I made him better. He could be my greatest accomplishment.”

You looked over your shoulder back to the doctor, dismayed by the manic look his eyes.

“Why am I here?” you asked bluntly. 

“Our soldier is having a—difficult time accepting his fate,” Zola frowned. “He killed his first doctor. He can’t be left under sedation all the time if he is expected to be of use. After reading your files, I thought you could be of great service.”

“I’m not a babysitter,” you argued, turning to him fully and crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No, you are not,” he agreed with a small smirk. You were displeased with his casual attitude. “You are a spy, but…you are also a woman. You are dedicated to the cause, but this does not mean that you don’t have needs. Wants. Does it?”

You clenched your jaw. What was he getting at?

“You were assigned to Erskine’s detail, you discovered Captain Rogers, yes?” he confirmed, and you nodded a sharp affirmation. “And you met his compatriot, one James Buchanan Barnes. Handsome fellow. Charming. You spent the rest of the night in his bed, did you not?”

While your heart was beating frantically in your chest, your expression remained calm and in control. It mattered little though; Zola knew he had struck a nerve.

“You were being watched, of course,” he let out a small laugh at your naivety and your nose flared with suppressed rage. “Did you really think after that mess in Berlin that you wouldn’t be monitored? Come now.”

“What is your point?” you demanded, your expression hardened.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Zola pulled out worn set of dog tags, dangling them before you. “Sergeant James Barnes,” he read them tauntingly. “Of the 107th Infantry Regiment.” 

Your heart dropping into your stomach, you spun around, finally getting a good look at the face of the soldier lying prone before you. 

Bucky. Dear God, it was Bucky Barnes.

His face was a mess of bruises and cuts, but that was undoubtedly him. His full lips parted, taking long, slow breaths, as his eyes remained closed. You were flooded with a mix of emotions. Sadness and pity were at the forefront, and you internally scolded yourself for such feelings.

He was little more than a stranger to you. Just a young man with a pretty face who had been shipped off to a war he wasn’t prepared for. His kind was a dime a dozen in these turbulent days. 

But you remembered his sweet smile. The fear in his eyes when he spoke of leaving for war. The love and concern he displayed for his best friend. The kindness he had shown you. His gentle touch. They way his arms felt as he held you. 

You didn’t remember the last time you cried, but you were ashamed to admit you had to fight tears at the sight of his abused body. 

“He is to be HYDRA’s greatest weapon,” Zola’s proclamation broke your concentration and you let your gaze fall despairingly to the floor. “And you will be his handler. His guide. You will teach him what it means to obey.”

You said nothing, standing aimlessly in front of the surgical table Bucky was spread out on. 

“He will wake soon,” Zola said firmly. “You are to keep him calm. Do whatever is necessary to gain his trust. Is this understood?”

There was a long moment of silence as you fought every instinct you had to rebel, before offering a quiet, “Yes sir.”

With a click of his heels, he left you at the soldier’s side, making his way back to his office. The small number of scientists and doctors that remained at Bucky’s bedside began to disperse as you moved a stool close to his bed and collapsed onto it. You saw his fingers give a small twitch, and with that the last doctor was gone.

Bucky must have fought hard before. They were all so frightened of him. These were men who worked alongside Zola and Schmidt. These were men who knew fear. 

Tentatively you reached out a hand, tracing his fleshed palm before letting your fingers entwine with his. 

He stirred slightly and you tightened your grasp. You wanted to comfort him. To tell him everything was going to be okay. To tell him that he was damaged but alive, and that that was all that mattered. 

And you felt like a fraud. Your assurances would just be empty words. You weren’t a friend. He deserved a friend. 

His eyes fluttered open and he groaned, surely in pain. With your free hand you reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and his gaze fell on you.

You recognized his look of confusion, then the blossom of relief, before he seemed to realize that you shouldn’t be here in Europe. You could see a million questions in his eyes, but you didn’t have time to answer any of them.

“Shh,” you entreated, moving to sit closer and taking notice of the guards scattered about the floor. He squeezed your hand and you had to fight the urge to cry out. His strength was unbearable.

“What am I—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere before catching a glimpse of shiny metal. He raised his hand to his face, staring at the foreign object in disgust and disbelief.

Feeling his body tense, knowing he wanted to lash out, you threw yourself across his chest. One hand rested on his now metal arm, the other on his shoulder for balance. 

“You need to stay calm, Bucky,” you said in a hushed whisper. “Please.”

He fought for control of his impulses, and began to reluctantly relax under your hands. 

“You,” he sighed, and a small look of chagrin appeared on his face. “I still don’t know your name.”

You raised yourself up slightly, closer to his ear, “I’m the one who is going to get you out of here, Sergeant.” 

You sat back down, his eyes glued on you now. Despite his desperate situation, he was still a well-trained soldier. He knew how to push the fear aside and finish the job. You admired him for that. 

“Can you stand?” you asked softly as you watched him test and flex his muscles. He gave you a small nod. “I’m supposed to be your handler,” you disclosed, trying your best to ignore the flash of anger on his face. You made it clear, you were the enemy, and whatever connection you might have had in the past wouldn’t be able to overcome such a revelation.

“If the guards ask, I am taking you to see Dr. Zola.” His lips thinned at the mention of that sick excuse of a doctor. “You say nothing. Nothing, understand?”

His sharp nod was good enough for you. Moving to stand, you helped him into a sitting position as the few members of staff who remained looked on. Throwing his good arm over your shoulder, your arm going to his waist to help him balance, you began to lead him away from the operating table.

Bucky was holding his own weight. Zola must have given him a very special serum for him to have healed so quickly. He could easily walk on his own, run even, but the more fragile he looked the less of a threat he appeared. 

You headed for the maze of halls that would lead to Zola’s office. The guard blocking your way looked you up and down in dismissal. “What are you doing?” he demanded to know. 

“Zola wanted to see him once I had him under control,” you replied flatly. 

“He’s in your control so quickly?” he sneered.

“I’m good at my job,” you countered. “Are you? Do you really want to earn Dr. Zola’s displeasure? You do know what he does to people who disobey, don’t do?”

With a hard glare, the guard stepped aside and allowed you to pass. With Bucky still using you as a crutch, you lead him further into the factory.

“There should be an emergency exit further along,” you muttered, studying the halls. “Zola’s office is to the right, so no matter what you stay left.” Bucky gave your shoulder a small squeeze in acknowledgement. 

You had only made it a couple of turns before you could hear the booted feet of a number of guards. There was no urgency to their walk, but their mere presence posed a problem. You had no reason to be there, especially not with Zola’s prized possession on your arm.

Pushing your coat out of the way, you reached for the gun at your hip. Zola, understandably convinced that you were a loyal dog, had not made you discard your weapons at the door. 

Bucky felt your movements and tensed when he saw your gun.

“Things are going to get messy,” you warned him as the footsteps grew closer. “When I tell you to run, you run. Don’t stop until you’re far from this place. Hell, don’t even stop then.”

“But—” you knew what he was going to ask, but you just shook your head. He needed to get away from here. He didn’t deserve the fate that awaited him here. All the rest was incidental. 

“Just try not to get shot,” you demanded as you slipped out from under his arm and readied your aim.

It was hard to describe the chaos that descended upon after the group of three turned the corner and you fired your first shot. 

The soldier in front fell to the floor with a bullet wound to the head. That would be your easiest kill. The other two wildly grabbed for their guns and you managed to hit one in the shoulder before throwing yourself behind the corner wall for protection. 

You kept Bucky close and out of the fight. He was a soldier in his own right, but he didn’t have a gun or a grasp on the way his body now worked. He’d just be a bigger danger to himself more than anyone else. 

The sound of gunfire began to attract more guards; you could hear them running in your direction. With a deep breath, you listened for movement around the corner. Hearing a soft rustling as the soldier tried to creep up on your position, you decided to just go for it. You left your cover, firing at the location of the noise.

The bullet hit him in the stomach, painful but not immediately fatal. He raised his gun, aiming for your head, but you were quicker and he joined his comrades on the floor. 

“Come on,” you commanded, and Bucky was at your side once more.

It sounded like men were coming towards you from all sides. Your right side would be the path of least resistance. It was nearest the outside of the factory. 

You ran faster than ever before, the rush of footfalls at your back making you feel like the hounds of hell were behind you. Even at your fastest Bucky outpaced you. You didn’t call him back. He was the priority. He was your mission now. Getting him out was all that mattered. 

Seeing the door to the exterior in the distance gave you a rush of hope. Your mind had blocked out the sounds of shouting and trampling of the guards. Your goal was in sight, Bucky nearing it with every step, and it was all you could focus on.

The bullet piercing your thigh made you stumble. 

Bucky turned to you as if he could feel that you were in trouble, the terror on his face clear when he saw the vast line of red trailing down your pant leg. More worrisome was the number of soldiers now closing in from behind.

Seeing him hesitate, you roared, “Run!” He took an unsteady step and your anger flared. Where was the soldier who followed orders? You needed him now more than ever. “That’s an order, Sergeant!”

Something in him clicked and he finally turned back towards freedom and ran. Knowing he was close to escape, you faced the oncoming hoard with your meager gun, letting off a few shots. He needed time. You had to do what you could. 

The bullet that entered your right shoulder sent a flare of pain down your arm, and your gun clattered to the floor. 

You expected them to keep firing as you began to lose your footing, falling to your knees in front of them. But the guards remained in formation at the end of the corridor, guns aimed but no one firing.

You couldn’t understand why they had stopped. Why none of them raced past you to follow Bucky. You looked over your shoulder, expecting to see the exterior door wide open and Bucky long gone.

The door was open, and filled to the brim with HYDRA soldiers, all with their weapons aimed at Bucky Barnes.

Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach as four men struggled to restrain him. He railed against their hold, but even his monumental strength couldn’t overcome it. 

You had failed. 

And this time the consequence would not be time spent in the Red Room. It wouldn’t be torture at the hands of Zola or Schmidt. It would be the knowledge that you couldn’t save him. That you, in your own way, had cared for this man, this good man, and you failed him.

The click of Zola’s shoes brought you back to the moment, and you watched him waddle towards you with his soldiers at his back.

He peered down at you through his glasses, tutting in disappointment. “I had hoped you were better than this,” he frowned. “It is no matter,” Zola sighed, “he will be my greatest triumph. And you—” 

You could hear Bucky struggling behind you but you could tear your eyes away from that squatty little man whose dreams were the stuff of your nightmares.

“You will be what you always have been,” he shook his head regretfully. “Nothing.”

Zola looked pointedly at the soldier on his right and you closed your eyes, knowing what was coming.

The last thing you heard was Bucky’s agonized scream, and then everything went black.


	24. Ashes to Ashes (INFINITY WAR SPOILERS) platonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hi okay so i recently watched Infinity War and I was wondering if you could write a fic where Tony is really father like to the reader, and they go through the battle and everything and after peter turns to dust the reader does too…i know its super sad but i really need sad now. Thanks!!

You heard Doctor Strange mutter something about this being the only way, but it didn’t really register with you.

He had just handed over the time stone. The one thing he promised to never do. That it spared Tony’s life was the only reason you didn’t throttle the man where he sat.

Tony’s incredulous reply was hindered by a cough and you saw blood begin to dribble from his mouth.

In a panic you ran to his side, unsure how to touch him, how to fix him as you finally took proper notice of the wound to his middle.

“You’re going to be okay,” you stammered, sliding under his arm and taking some of his weight. You could hear the tears in your voice and you didn’t care.

You had been so close. Tony, you, and Peter had Thanos’ glove. You had it! And Quill had ruined everything. He was too angry, to stubborn to see reason and now all hope was seemingly gone.

You didn’t know this so-called Star Lord well, but in that moment you hated him. Thanks to his rash actions the man you considered a father, the only man who had been a constant in your life, was bleeding out on some alien planet.

“Kid-” Tony started, interrupted once more by coughing. He gestured to his arm, and you followed his movements. Lifting his hand, you guided it along his wound as his nano-suit cauterized it. His body was tense against yours but he let out a sigh of relief when it was over.

“We’ve got to get back to Earth,” Tony grimaced as he squeezed your shoulder and took an unsteady step forward. “We’ve got to find Rogers and stop this giant purple asshole.”

You locked eyes with Peter who bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet. You both knew the truth. Even with Quill’s ship you’d never make it back home in time.

Mantis let out a sudden “Oh!” and all eyes turned to her only to see her body begin to flake and disintegrate. She just–disappeared. It was incomprehensible. And yet you knew all at once.

The war was over. And you lost.

Drax was next and even amid the chaos none of you moved. Shock would do that.

Quill’s face was locked in an expression of amazement as he too began to drift away. You looked to Tony. For answers, for anything. Tony always had the answers.

But not today. Tony was frozen in fear, watching his worst nightmare come true in front of his very eyes.

By the time the Doctor vanished, you were a mess. Your heart was pounding, your ears ringing, and panic filled your blood covered form. They were gone. All just gone–

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s weak voice caused you to jerk your head in his direction. “I don’t feel so good…”

He stumbled toward you and Tony, reaching for you both. Tony grabbed him, as if to assure himself that Peter was still flesh and bone.

“I…” Peter cried and you felt tears pouring down your face when you saw the first flakes of ash from his hands. “I don’t want to go. Sir, I don’t want to–”

And he was gone. Like he never existed.

You let out an angry sob and Tony pulled you to him. His grasp was tight and desperate as you wailed into his chest. You wrapped your arms around him, uncaring of his wound.

The pain was welcome. Pain was better than this numb feeling that was creeping up his body.

The weight on his chest began to lighten and he looked down in fear. Your eyes reflected his fear as you saw the ash begin to swirl around you.

At first you thought it was Tony and you tried to hold on tighter, to will him to life. But you soon realized you couldn’t feel anything. Not his shaking hands on your shoulders, you couldn’t hear him screaming his denial. When your mouth moved to form words, it felt as if you were outside your body, in control but unable to feel.

“I don’t want to die,” you whispered. The words fell on deaf ears.

You could see the beginning of Tony’s descent into a panic attack and it filled you with regret. Regret that you were one of the reasons he was losing his hard won control. Regret that you could no longer find the words to calm him.

And then you felt nothing at all.


	25. A Future Upended (INFINITY WAR SPOILERS) Tony Stark x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness has always been temporary for Tony Stark.

It was one of those rare days.

The sun was shining, there was no threat looming over your heads, and Tony actually managed to take a day off. That so rarely happened that it almost felt unreal.

You practically floated through the park, catching Tony’s eye every now and then. He had a strange look about him. Excited. Nervous.

Normally a nervous Tony would have you on edge, but the excitement etched on his face kept you calm.

“Last night,” Tony declared spontaneously, “I dreamt we had a kid.”

“Dream or nightmare?” you teased him with a laugh.

“Dream,” his firm response took you a bit by surprise. “It felt so real. We named him after your eccentric uncle. What’s his name?”

“Morgan,” you reminded him with a raised brow. Normally talk of kids sent Tony running for the hills but at the moment he was positively enthusiastic.

“So you woke up and thought we were–”

“Expecting. Yeah,” he nodded and you smiled up at him with a hint of amusement.

“Would that be a good thing?” you considered.

“Another Stark may not be what the world needs,” Tony admitted, “but who knows. Ever given any thought to having a little genius of our own?”

“You realize you have a kid already,” you smirked and Tony looked aghast.

“What have you heard?” he demanded theatrically. “Have you been in touch with my lawyers?”

“Peter Parker,” you clarified with an indulgent grin. “You know you’re the only father figure he’s got.”

“Poor kid,” he snorted.

“You know you love him,” you gave Tony a playful shove. He might not want to admit it, but having Peter around was good for him.  
Tony just rolled his eyes.

Your light-hearted moment came to an abrupt end when a strange man appeared with the elusive Bruce Banner at his side.

Soon Tony was gone, off to save the day again. He promised you’d finish this discussion when he got back.

There was a pit in your stomach when you watched him disappear through that portal. So much was still unsaid. The moment, happy and hopeful, was all too fleeting.

Tony wasn’t a family man. Hadn’t ever really considered it before. But that morning had felt like a revelation.

But hope was something Tony learned was temporary at best.

It wasn’t until he found himself on a strange planet, holding Peter close as the boy began to drift away, that he could admit you were right.  
He loved Peter like a son. And he had failed him, failed you. Maybe he was never meant to have a family. Maybe he was just lucky to have you. A chill ran down his spine as a dark thought crossed his racing mind.

Death was random and indiscriminate. He wanted nothing more than to find a way home and to hold you close. Yo reassure himself that was done light left in his world.

But you may have already slipped through his fingers.


	26. Half As Much  Loki x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asgard hadn’t been your home since Loki fell. Now you call New York City and it’s Sanctum home.

You weren’t sure quite how long you had been on Midgard. Time had taken on new meaning since you found yourself drawn to the Sanctum and it’s masters.

On Asgard, one had little regard for time and it’s awing power. It’s hard to notice it’s effects when you lived as a god and endured for millennia. But time was precious here. Something to be manipulated and folded and twisted to your desire.

You imagined Loki would have found it fascinating. After getting over his inherent disregard for all things mortal.

“You look pensive,” Stephen commented, and you granted him a rye smile.

“A familiar look to be sure,” you mused. He was an interesting one, this Doctor Strange. Equal parts magic and science made him a puzzling subject to study.

When you first arrived at his doors, you were tempted to dismiss him. You were, after all, a sorcerer who spent over a thousand years in the tutelage of some of the greatest teachers in Asgard. Frigga had been more than just a mentor, she was the closest thing you had to a mother. The day she became your mother in truth had been tumultuous but even in her worry she had welcomed you into the family.

Yet here you sat, on a far off world, a fallen queen. Motherless. Husbandless. But not quite alone.

“I find myself remembering today,” you sighed, tired and resigned. “Something feels wrong. Or right. I can’t make sense of it.”

“You sense danger?” Strange wondered, on alert. He had learned very quickly to trust your intuition.

“No?” you replied, unsure of yourself. “No,” you added more confidently. “I sense…a reckoning. An end. And possibly a beginning.”

“How ominous of you,” he half smiled and you gave a small laugh.

“I am nothing if not incredibly vague.” His rich chuckle made you smile.

Life after Loki’s fall had been turbulent and confusing. You grieved, taking comfort in Thor’s offer of a shoulder to cry on. But soon the truth emerged, of Loki’s heritage, his betrayal, his attempt to destroy Jotunheim and even his own brother.

The Allfather had been kind after all had been revealed. He knew of your love for his troubled son. And that’s what he was, Odin’s son. Blood did not make a family.

You were technically one of the family now. Loki, having assumed the throne as the Allfather laid in the Odinsleep, had said that the King needed a Queen. That the people needed a Queen. That he needed you.

That had been the tipping point.

Duty had always meant little to you. It was easy to be dutiful. It required little work or thought. But when Loki whispered his need for you at his side…you were unable to refuse his plea.

You always wanted to be needed. To actually be wanted. And despite all your flirtations and dalliances with the younger prince, you never truly thought he meant those loving words he would murmur while you were entwined.

His silver tongue had stilled. You felt truth in his words. And you would forever feel betrayed by them now.

Loki lusted for power. He loved his mother. And he used you.

While the royal family counted you as one of their own, Thor your most fierce protector, the people had turned. You were no Queen, simply an untrustworthy remnant left behind by the would be King. You were unwelcome outside the palace.

So you asked Odin permission to leave. You brought shame on your people. And no matter how hard he, Frigga, and Thor fought to convince you, you felt you had no place on Asgard.

You had found refuge in Kamar-Taj when Loki appeared again. You wandered outside the Sanctum to stare at the news coverage. He looked a shell of his former self, hair grown long and wild, face gaunt and pale. It was the picture of him, chain and muzzled like an animal, that sent you back to the shelter of the village.

That was not the Loki of old. There would be no reunion. There was nothing left to reignite.

Your move to New York City was Strange’s doing. He was it’s new Master, the new Sorcerer Supreme. You had developed a kinship. You shared secrets of the Asgardian masters, he taught you how magic truly made you one with the universe. You were unwilling to let go of the one friend you had in this world.  
You didn’t know what became of Loki. You could have discovered the answer easily, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. He was no longer the boy you held in your affections.

Stephen didn’t know of your connection to the god who destroyed New York. He didn’t push you to reveal your past. At least not after his initial volley of questions. Everyone had secrets, saved for only the most intimate connections.

As your mind wandered, Stephen’s became laser focused. You recognized the expression on his face as concern. And fury.

“What is it?” you inquired urgently, sitting up rigidly at the library desk.

“Trouble,” he said with a quiet roar. And he called you ominous. “Stay here,” he demanded before departing swiftly as his cape gave a decisive snap to attention.

“Well that’s not going to happen,” you muttered with a roll of your eyes. You may not have been one of the regarded warriors of Asgard, but you were no wilting flower. You and Loki had trained side by side both physically and in sorcery.

You followed his levitating form to the study in 177A Bleecker Street.

“…All right, Wizard. Who are you? Why should I care?”

You froze at the familiar voice. It couldn’t be.

“…I have some questions for you. Take a seat. Tea?”

“Thor?” Your voice shook and you reluctantly shed a tear. It had been so long since you had seen family.

Halfway lowered into his seat, Thor stood with lightening quickness. Turning, he saw you and his face brightened with his wide smile.

“It has been too long!” he boomed as he reached you in two strides, pulling you into a massive hug.

You buried your face into his neck and hair, lingering in his comforting embrace. He felt like home.

“You know each other, I take it?” Stephen interrupted, bemused.

“She is my sister!” Thor announced, and it tugged at your heart. Still family after all this time. “By choice if not by blood.”

“Then you know Loki,” Strange frowned in disillusionment, turning to Thor. “I keep a watch list of individuals and beings from other realms that may be a threat to this world. Your adopted brother, Loki, is one of those beings.”

“A worthy inclusion,” he admitted with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

“Then why bring him here?” Stephen demanded. You blanched.

“Loki is here? And free?” you shook your head in shock.

“We’re here to find my father,” Thor said softly, giving you a sympathetic eye. His father, you noted, not their father.

“So, if I were to tell you where Odin was, all parties concerned would promptly return to Asgard?” You looked at the Doctor incredulously.

“Promptly,” Thor promised.

“Great! Then I’ll help you.” Stephen clapped his hands in agreement.

“You knew Odin was here and said nothing?” you turned on him.

“I have to tell you, he was adamant that he not be disturbed,” he tried to smooth things over. “Your father said he had chosen to remain in exile,” he turned back to Thor.

“My father is no longer in exile. So if you could tell me where he is, I can take him home,” Thor bargained, you could hear the strain in his voice. He was so tired.

“He’s in Norway,” Stephen replied bluntly, “waiting for you.”

“All right,” Thor nodded, “I suppose I’ll need my brother back.”

“You’ve had him trapped?” You whispered.

Strange shrugged nonchalantly, circling his hands and opening a portal.

Loki, in all his glory, came falling out, landing with a thud into the Sanctum floor with a shout.

“I’ve been falling for thirty minutes!” He growled, twisting his head to glare at Stephen.

“You can handle him from here,” he said dismissively.

“Handle me?” Loki snarled, pulling himself to his full height. “You think you’re some kind of sorcerer? Don’t think for one minute, you second-rate…” he threatened as he unsheathed his infamous daggers.

“Enough!” you intervened, stepping in front of the fuming god of mischief.

Loki stopped short, his wide eyes deceiving his suddenly passive expression. Loki always took strides to hide his true feelings. You weren’t surprised to see his face go blank at the sight of you. A small part of you hoped fora more passionate reaction, but you never truly expected it. “So this is where you have hidden yourself all this time.”

“You’re one to talk, Liesmith,” you fired back. Thor took a pointed step to the side. Stephen watched in that intense way of his.

“I did not flee to another world, one full of mortals and mediocrity,” he sneered.

“No, you just let yourself fall into oblivion,” you reminded him. “You fled, same as I.”

“And tried to rule Earth,” Thor added in helpfully. You snorted incredulously. Loki glared at the blonde. “And later faked his death.”

“Are we done comparing so-called crimes?” you crossed your arms angrily.

“He also exiled father,” Thor jumped in again with a raised hand, as if asking his turn. “And impersonated him on the throne.”

“Will you stop ‘helping’?” Loki hissed in irritation.

Thor held up his palms and shut his mouth, much to Loki’s relief.

“How exactly do you know each other?” Strange asked suspiciously. “Thor did call you his sister, after all.”

“She is my wife, you talentless ape.” The Doctor looked dismayed, and you found that it hurt to disappoint him so.

Loki finished glowering at Stephen and turned his anger to you once more. “I demand the room,” he declared decorously and Strange choked down a huff of frustration.

“This is my Sanctum,” he reminded you all.

“Then you know your way around. Kindly find the door,” Loki said through clenched teeth. “You too, brother.”

“I suggest we give them a moment,” Thor mock whispered, putting a hand on Stephen’s shoulder to lead him out. The Cape of Levitation smacked his hand away. You overheard Thor wonder, “Is there anything breakable in there?” as he escorted a very reluctant Strange out of the study.

“Why are you here?” Loki pressed.

You took a moment to finally take a look at him, now that you were without company. He appeared much improved, even stylish in his black suit, though you still preferred his leathers. But you supposed he would be, considering he was fraudulently living the life of a king.

“You came looking for your father. I came looking repentance,” you stated frankly.

“And what could you possibly have to repent for?” he jeered. “Being lover to a monster?”

“Being complicit in the betrayal of the crown,” You jabbed back. “Did you think only you were held responsible for your actions? I assure you it was not so. The people saw me as a traitor. And the Allfather looked at me in pity. We thought you lost to us. I saw no reason to remain a pariah in my own home.”

“I can’t imagine how that feels,” he snapped. “Did you even mourn before you fled to your half-rate, so-called enchanter?”

“He’s not mine,” you rolled your eyes. “And we grieved. Thor was inconsolable. I—I lost the man I loved.”

“Such sentiment,” he said in disbelief.

“You may be incapable of feeling love for anyone but your mother, but I am not.”

“She’s dead,” you could hear the actual sorrow and regret in his voice. “Thor let her die. Didn’t you know?”

“I’ve had no word from Asgard since I left,” you stammered slightly. “I’m so sorry, Loki.”

Whatever anger you had was absent in the face of this news. Frigga had been a mother to you as well and you felt her loss acutely. Part of you resented Odin, exiled on Midgard and couldn’t even break his secrecy to tell you the Allmother was gone.

“She wasn’t my real mother,” he tried to wave away your concern, but you took a step forward and held his face in your shaking hands.

“She was your mother in every sense of the word,” you cried. “And mine as well. Don’t belittle her memory like that.”

Loki, struggling to keep his composure, allowed himself to bask in your touch.

“What happened to us, Loki?” you allowed the tears to stream down your cheeks. “We were more than lovers, we were friends. You meant the world to me. You may have not felt as strongly but I thought I meant something to you.”

“You think me so unfeeling?” he lamented.

“You haven’t shown me different,” you sighed, dropping your hands. “All the times love slipped from your lips there was a smirk, a look. Something to tell me it wasn’t true. At least not all true. They call you Silvertongue for a reason. You lie so prettily.”

“You never believed me?” he appeared almost contrite.

“Once,” you revealed. “When you asked to marry. But then I realized what you said,” you smiled sadly. “You needed me. Not that you loved me. Or even wanted me. Just need.”

“Just?” he lamented.

“Need is different than love. You know this,” you chided him. “It’s desperate. Need makes you use people. Love makes you selfless. You would do anything for them. You were always too selfish to be selfless.”

“I’ve changed,” he argued, threading his hands through your hair and holding you almost fiercely.

“You masqueraded as your father to steal the throne,” you denied him. “That isn’t change. It’s just more lies.”

“I’m trying,” he countered, a near manic glint in his eyes.

“Are you?” you implored. “Or are you behaving because Thor made you?”

“Truly,” he exclaimed, bringing you close and resting his forehead against yours. “I am not the same man you called Silvertongue. Not completely. I am flawed, resentful…vulnerable, and a bit of a fool.”

“A bit?” you allowed yourself to smile.

“But of course,” he returned with that grin that always made you a little weak in the knees. “I’m also dashingly handsome and wickedly charming.”

“That you are,” you murmured so softly he almost didn’t hear you.

“Come with us,” he entreated.

“Loki…” you drifted off cautiously.

“We are here to find Odin,” he continued in a near rush of words. “To restore him to the throne. Things will right once more. The people no longer fear me, nor would they fear you. We can begin anew.”

“Because you still need me?” you wondered out loud.

“Because I want you with me,” Loki replies openly. And for once you saw no trace of that beautiful liar from before. “Because I love you.”

“Gods, you are wickedly charming,” you both couldn’t resist a laugh.

“Is that a yes?” He studied your eyes anxiously.

“Let’s find Odin,” you gave in with a watery smile. “And take things from there. Husband.”

Loki, filled with genuine hope for the first time in centuries, pulled you into a gentle but loving kiss.

“One question,” he muttered between kisses. “Can I be the one to tell the useless children’s magician that you’re leaving?”


End file.
